#GOOD FOR HER DAMN TIN CAN MENTAL HEALTH

[watatsumiis]

Sitting in their lap (part 1)

Exactly what it says on the tin, how various Genshin characters would react to a reader who just decides to sit on their lap randomly!

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), described/implied to be physically smaller than most of the characters (simply because I am and that's how I project, but if you'd like an alternate version, send me an ask and I'll whip it up!), pre-established platonic relationships (though this may border into romantic if you consider physical affection to be that way, so be warned).

Characters: Albedo, Al Haitham, Ayato, Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe.

Albedo just sort of... lets it happen. He's got no qualms about you making yourself comfortable in his lap - unless you start to get in the way, in which case he might just politely try and redirect you elsewhere. He isn't particularly fidgety or squirmy, and he finds that the pressure of your weight in his lap actually helps him concentrate a little better, and sometimes he'll let you stay, even long after he's finished up whatever he might be working on. Be warned, though, he may rope you into holding art or writing supplies for him! He doesn't care if others see, he's never really been one to care all that much about what others think or say. If it's benefiting you both, there's no real reason to stop it.

Al Haitham gets pretty irritated the first time you plonk down in his lap like you have every right to sit there. He's almost downright rude about it, making snide little remarks and grumbling to himself about how you're in the way - you may find that he just outright boots you off if you're somewhere where others might see you (especially Kaveh). As long as you stand your ground, though, he'll eventually settle for it, and he may deny it but sometimes he sits a little further out from his desk, just so you have space to slip into his lap and snuggle up to him if you so desire. If you ask him about the sudden change of heart, he'll quote something about how pressure can help the parasympathetic nervous system kick in, and how humans are a social species and how he's read that physical closeness every once in a while is good for physical and mental health. Damn know-it-all.

Ayato openly adores it. He has a lot of paperwork to do on a day-to-day basis, and any excuse to have some silent company is good enough for him. He can be absently fidgety, twirling your hair around his fingers or rubbing a loose part of your clothing gently - he hardly even seems to notice that he's doing it at all. He's ambidextrous, so you have a lot of freedom in how you decide to sit, he's happy to work around you, so long as you aren't too loud or distracting. You may even find that every once in a while when he knows he'll be swamped with paperwork, he might call you into his office and subtly try to goad you into sitting with him (while making it seem as if it was your own idea all along, cheeky thing he is). The pressure and physical closeness of someone else helps him concentrate on the tedious, repetitive papers he works on.

Arlecchino can be... finicky. It largely depends on her mood and what sort of day she's had whether or not she'll allow you to sit on her lap. She's pretty touchy on the days she allows you to sit in her lap, constantly adjusting your position and tugging you closer to herself - if you didn't know any better, you'd say she was actually enjoying this, but she vehemently denies it, citing the fact that she figured you were in need of comfort and she was just trying to provide it, or that she just hadn't switched out of 'working with the children at the orphanage' mode. She may scold you if you wriggle around too much, or boot you off with very little rhyme or reason, so it's a bit of a gamble if you decide to try and settle in with her for the long run.

Capitano silently takes it. No protests, no comment, nothing, he just leans back in his chair and adjusts his position so it's as comfortable for you as it could possibly be (which is surprisingly nice, considering all the armour he wears). He won't complain, even if you won't stop wriggling around or chattering or playing with his hair or the chains that hang off of his plate mail. He quickly gets very good at reading your intent, and eventually he seems to realise what you want the moment you step in the room, and he'll just silently push his chair back and give his thigh a pat like an open invitation. He may occasionally use you as a chin-rest, or wrap his big arms gently around you if you seem to be getting restless, but otherwise he's silent and hands-off.

Childe is a little all over the place. He loves the idea of you sitting in his lap, he loves physical affection, but in practice, he can't stay still for more than a few minutes without his senses going haywire, and it won't be long until he's bothering you, asking you a million questions or fidgeting with your clothes or accessories in a manner that's downright disconcerting. He never gets any paperwork or anything done when anyone else is in the room, let alone so close to him, but he loves it anyways. He'll chatter away excitedly about anything and everything that comes to mind as he snuggles up to you and smiles, glad that you came to him, of all people, in your quest for affection.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #capitano #genshin capitano #capitano x reader #childe #childe x reader #ajax #ajax x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #sitting in lap series

[sosa2imagines]

I know where I belong. Part 5

----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ----------------------------------------------------- Warnings- Fluff for everyone, tiny mention of Steve -----------------------------------------------------

You had gotten over the pain, Steve had caused you. Talking about Steve, ever since he came back to the tower, he had been sent to back to back missions, and miss Sharon was busy to rise up in her career. Good for you though, you didn't have to see them much or hear their stupid moans.

Now it had became a daily basis thing, for you and Bucky to spend the nights together. You mostly spent time with Bucky, Nat, Wanda, Sam and Tony. You guys had become a happy little family.

Bucky made sure you are in good health, mentally and physically. You went for runs together, meditated together, practice your skills together. But little did you both know, that both of you were finding it difficult to control yourself, around each other. Bucky was still stuck on the idea of going to Wakanda, meanwhile you kept every trainee, any girl except for Nat and Wanda as far as possible away from Bucky.

Now spending time with Bucky felt different. Staring at Bucky would make you feel heat in your body, your stomach did do summersaults whenever you got slight touches by him. Bucky would often tease you about your blushing, and you would awkwardly laugh, and he found that cute too. And good lord have mercy on shirtless days, you blamed anything possible, but nothing made sense.

So on a very boring night, when you both were sleepless and had nothing to do, you teased Bucky to sing, and he did, by playing Bruno Mars. "Can I have this dance with you mam?" he bow down offering you his hand, you laughed at his antics, clearing your throat "Well yes kind sir" you took his hand and he began to swing you both, humming to the lyrics "I ain't playing no games Every word that I say is coming straight from the heart So if you tryna lay in these arms I'ma leave the door open" and with one last swing you crashed into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer to him until the two of you are pressed tightly against each other "Bucky" you whisper, your breath fanning out across his face. He licks his lips "Y/n" his breath hits your lips and you whimper softly. Just as he leans down, someone clears their throat.

It was Steve giving you both a hard glare. Bucky ignored him and took your hand and went out of the room, without giving Steve a chance to say anything. But that didn't stop you from thinking about the attempt of kiss, what would have happen if you both had kissed? Will it change your friendship? Would you be more than friends? Stupid Steve! ruin the moment. Little did you know, Bucky was thinking the exact same thing. Stupid Steve!

Both of you were red, from the earlier situation, and the fact that you are still holding hands. On the way to your unknown destination, you heard noises coming from the lab. It was Tony, on rare nights he would crash in the tower. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen. Bucky tells you, you nod and go to meet Tony.

"Hey Tons" you whisper and Tony yelps in shock, "Jesus have mercy on me!" putting a hand over his heart. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you home?" Tony tried to scoff, but when he saw your death glare, he gulped "Pepper and I had a fight" he said it casually as if telling you the local news. "What? why? what did you do?" you ask him. "Why do people assume it's me whenever something happens?" "I don't know maybe because you are Tony Stark?" "Damn right, anyway we were supposed to go out tomorrow, and I forgot, I tried to fix it but the babysitter is not free tomorrow" he quickly tells you, seeing you were about to open your mouth. "I will look after her" you offer. "You will?" he asks with hope in his voice. "Yeah me and Bucky can babysit, we don't have any missions or paper work." you tell him. "Tin man will be okay looking after Morgan too?" Tony smirks "Apart from you?" "Tony!" you warn him and he rolls his eyes playfully. "But really you both can babysit her?" "Of course, I miss my goddaughter" Tony gives you a big brotherly hug "You are a life savior!" "Anything for family" you smiled at him.

"So what are you doing all alone, terminator is sleeping?" You glare at him, and Tony mock surrenders "Fine Barnes" "He's in the kitchen" you blush thinking about Bucky which is not unnoticed by Tony. "Late night dinner date?" " About that, I need your advice" "I'm all ears, tell me" he wiggles his brows looking at you curiously. You tell him every single thing from, when you started to feel jealous, to not feeling anything for Steve, all the way to tonight, you guys dancing and almost about to kiss. "Stupid Steve" Tony scowls. "That's what I said" you both high fived each other.

"But don't you think I'm falling for Bucky too soon?" "Y/N it's ok not to feel anything for Steve it does not mean you didn't love him, it only means you have moved on, you had pain, but now it's time to gain, it's ok if you are falling for Bucky, and you are blushing hearing his name", yes you were blushing, every single time when Bucky crossed your mind you did blushed a lot. "Plus no offence if the idiot golden boy can cheat, you can definitely move on, take your time Y/n feel this new beginning, now go to your man" Tony advices you.

"Marriage and parenthood has made you smart, I love you Tony" before Tony can say anything you gave him a quick hug "Bring Morgan tomorrow and go to sleep" with that you left to go find Bucky leaving a speechless and smiling Tony behind.

When you enter the kitchen you saw Bucky sitting at the dinning table with his head down. You sat across him and grabbed his hand.

He looked at you with a sad smile. You gave his palm a light squeeze "Y/n I didn't meant to make you feel awkward.." "You didn't make me feel awkward Buck, we have been dancing around our feelings far too long now. We need to talk" Bucky nodded, you both just sat across each other, holding hands and staring at each other, before opening your mouths in unison. "I think I'm falling in love with you" "I think I'm falling in love with you"

You both looks at each other wide eyes, and Bucky spoke first "Y/n I don't know when I started to fall for you but..." he was nervous to speak and he started to fiddle with the fabric of his sleeve, you hold his hand making him look at you "Bucky even I don't know, how or when I started to fall in love with you." by this time you both had tears in your eyes. "Y/n you are trying to move on and I have no doubts about you, but I don't want to take advantage of the situation" "Bucky I don't even know when I stopped thinking about Steve. He no longer lives in my heart or mind Buck, you do!" Bucky's head snap towards yours, hearing your confession, a tear roll down his cheek, while you tried to blink the tears away, but failed miserably.

"Doll I don't think I have a heart, all I know is pain" "Bucky do you know why you feel pain?", Bucky shook his head no to your question, making you chuckle a bit even though your tears were flowing down. "It is because when you have a heart then there will be pain, and when there is pain then there will be heart too, and with that you will feel other emotions too, but most importantly you'll feel love." "It's a sweet difficulty isn't it doll?" "Yes it is, but we can over come together" "Doll I'm scared, I don't want to lose you and our friendship" "Bucky, even I'm scared, I don't want to lose you and our friendship, but looks like I'm in love with my best friend" you cried and Bucky jumped from the table coming to your side, he crouched down and took your face in his hands "I love you Y/n" and with the confession, Bucky kissed you, softly but passionately. Then he rested his forehead on yours, "I love you too Buck", you both chuckled, tears turning to sniffs.

"Doll go on a date with me tomorrow" "I would love to but not tomorrow" "Why?" he pouts, you kissed his pout making him blush "Tomorrow we are babysitting Morgan" he looked at you to elaborate more, you shook your head "It's a long story Buck" "I'm not sleepy" "Then I'll tell you"

----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ----------------------------------------------------- (Part 5 is here lovely people, I hope you all enjoy. Please as always comments and feedbacks are appreciated. If you have any requests let me know. Pretty soon we will get rid of Sharon, just hang in there. 😅❤️) -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst

[utb-biephasic-terror]

Introduction And Warnings

Dead Dove Do Not Eat: It has what it says on the tin/ things are occasionally morally dubious without karma, instant karma, or obvious karma.

Specific Warnings:

Politics, gender identity issues, family abuse, swearing, suicide, depression, mental health issues, overarching themes of sex, drugs, alcohol, addiction, cosmic horror, fantasy "current events", and criminal violence.

---

This is a world meant to be explored through dialogue. You will know as much as you explore, and redundant questions will be accepted, especially questions on a character's opinion. Tastes and attitudes shift.

---

The past is unimportant. All that matters is the present and what you believe. Are you funny? Entertaining? Useful? What are your views on the recent Humanization trend-- have you tried it? Can we associate with you? Are you safe for us? Don't give us that look. Keep up. You have bills due by the end of this week. You can focus on your family later, what do you think the weekend's for? Keep your head down and clock in, you damn Scorpio.

Monsters and Humans. They might not have ever been apart. The Surface might exist, it might not-- everyone has their own thoughts on it. Hey, did you hear about the shooting down in the Winter District? I hear-- what, architecture? What about it? Oh yeah, there's pink and blue neon lights everywhere. Hm? Yeah, of course it's a city. Why wouldn't it be? Yeah, a big one. Nah, not everything, there's farmland outside of it. Most of them live in the city, though. No. No-- yeah, but there's a lot of money in the city. What was that? --Wait, I have another call coming in. Yeah, man, I'll talk to you later, bye.

*CLICK!*

---

You are allowed to ask any character, as long as you know their name. You are allowed to give gifts and physically interact with characters-- but the characters have the right to ignore, reject, and accept interactions at their own in-character discretion.

For asks with a combination of characters from different Worlds (example: Underfell Bright Sans and Underswap Beam Grillby), ask @undertalebrittle. It is the home of the Brittle Void.

---

Revealed Roster:

Frisk

A little girl who wanders wherever her instincts take her and makes both a great deal of friends and a great deal of trouble for her parents. Speaks in clown-nose-honk noises. Often talks to her dad, the only person who can accurately decipher her speech, about her best friend, Flowey the flower. Takes Flowey everywhere she goes and tries to feed him bits of what she's eating, even though he "can only feed off the cosmic energy of the infinite Multiverse and its complex fractal frequencies" …whatever that means. Frisk often has sleepovers with her friend, Asriel, and his spunky sister, Undyne. *excited clown nose honking sounds*

Flowey

Frisk's "imaginary" friend who guides her out of trouble. An eldritch abomination by definition. *silence*

Sans (Teer)

The oldest of the Terror Brothers-- works for a shady loan company. Doesn't enjoy the company of others. Presentable, but keeps people at arm's length and doesn't interact much outside of work. Hasn't used a vacation day in years. Mentally rejects the fact that the Brittle Void exists, even when he's standing in it. Afraid of cigarettes, but chain-smokes. "Thanks, but I don't want what you're selling. Have a good day."

Gaster (Phasicor)

The neurotic, forgotten middle brother who works at a convenience store. His body has oddly stretched out proportions-- his hands reach his calves, and he surpasses Vendetta's height. Frisk is his daughter, and Allez is his girlfriend. Afraid of cigarettes. Has a speech impediment, and avoids conflict. "I-- I-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I--"

Allez (Pierrot)

An "exotic dancer" Frisk's mother, and technically Gaster's girlfriend. Sees people as a way to get by, and has no trouble imposing if there's something she wants. Diabetic, and has a noticeably short temper with energetic, intense, or emotional folks. Unapologetically brings work home with her. "You almost sound like you love me."

Papyrus (Bie, pronounced "bee")

An unnervingly confident urologist who laughs at inappropriate times. The youngest of the Terror Brothers. Won't admit when he's in the wrong, but also doesn't acknowledge the faults of others. His SOUL is permanently under his chin (SOULs are referred to as THE HEART in the Brittleverse). He never takes off his glasses. Afraid of cigarettes. Knows things he "shouldn't", but doesn't know that he shouldn't know them. "YEAH HAH HAH HA--" *chokes on a fly* *gags* *dry heaves* *stands upright like nothing ever happened*

Muffet (Kitti)

An E-Girl streamer with a decent following. Has undergone various cosmetic procedures due to the new Humanization trend, including Arm Reduction, Eye Reduction, Eye Whitening, Chitin Softening, a full-bodied skin-colored tattoo, and the removal of her fangs. Wears a wig and contact lenses. Currently in a relationship with another influencer with a similar number of followers, but is looking to bump up her game with her boyfriend's brother, who manages a cosmetics line (or so he claims). Competitive. "Chat, he's cringe. Get his ass."

---

Undertale Brittle by @kyne-grotto

Underfell Brittle: Biephasic Terror by @kyne-grotto

(or Grotto-kay on DeviantArt, where most of the context already is.)

#introduction #utb biephasic #ut brittle #undertale #undertale au #grotto's journal

[bnbc]

Nobody can take what's hers!

#she really enjoys it #I want to be her #I want to be this burger #APHAPHAPAHJAPAP;SIDJFHSDFHSDF #oc koulin #ikd why it makes me so happy #girl eats WELL #THATS GOOD #GOOD FOR HER DAMN TIN CAN MENTAL HEALTH #great #gosh I love her so much

[strongerthanafork]

More Than Metal

Gavin Reed x Android!Reader: Part 2

Warnings: cursing, guns, alcohol use, crime scene, blood

Part 1

Analyzing Sample…

[Analysis Complete]

Sample Contains:

Thirium 310: 96%

Blood: 2%

Human Plasma: 2%

Analyzing Thirium…

Model ID - AP400

Serial Number: #495 345 12-8

"The fuck are you doing?" Gavin interjects. (Y/N) looks over at him as she kneels at the puddle of blue blood, fingers to her lips. VN opens her mouth to speak but Gavin holds up a hand. "Y'know what? I don't wanna know." Reed scoffs walking into another room.

○ Follow Detective Reed

□ Contiune to Investigate

● Follow Detective Reed

(Y/N) stands, following Gavin from a distance. Gavin glances around the blood stained apartment. "This is so gruesome shit." He mutters. VN tilts her head.

○ Question tactics

□ Urge him to continue working

◇ Leave to investigate in another room

X Continue to follow

■ Urge him to continue working

"Detective, I believe we should collect evidence. You seem distracted." (Y/N) states, hands behind her back. Gavin glares at the android. "You don't get to order me around, plastic." He grits.

○ Question tactics

◇ Leave to investigate another room

X Contiune to follow

X Contiune to follow

(Y/N) remains silent LED flashing blue. Gavin shakes his head kneeling down to inspect the floor where the victim was killed. (Y/N) stares at the blood splatter on the walls.

Analyzing Splatter…

[Information Acquired]

WEAPON: Kitchen knife

ANGLE: 43.2°

VN blinks. "The deviant was an AP400 model, a caretaker. It lived here with it's owners." Gavin looks up at (Y/N). "And how do you know that?" He ponders aloud. "I analyzed a sample of thiruim, there," She says, pointing to the floor. Gavin cringes. "That's fuckin' gross." He murmers. "The deviant was injured. It's blood was mixed with the victims, meaning, it couldn't have gotten far." (Y/N) explains. "We should proceed to the station to interrogate the survivors." She says. "I thought you said we needed to collect evidence." Gavin says, crossing his arms as he stands. "We have gathered enough information from this location." (Y/N) concludes. Gavin laughs, mockingly. "Look at you, smarty pants." Gavin teases, getting a confused blank expression from the android. "Never-fucking-mind. Let's go, dipshit." Gavin growls, walking out. (Y/N) hesitates, wanting to ask him if he was angry with her. That didn't matter. Why did she care?

Gavin walks through the automatic doors of the DPD. He heads by his terminal throwing his keys on the desktop. Hank watches the two walk back in. "Hello again, (Y/N)." Connor says, nodding at her. He smiled. VN nods at him. Androids weren't programmed to smile. Where they? "Good afternoon, Connor." She says, flatly. Hank snorts, grabbing her attention. "I fail to see what is humorous about our interaction, Lieutenant." She says, eyeing Anderson. Hank raises his hands as if he were surrendering, turning back to his computer. "Fuckin' androids." He mutters. "Would you hurry the fuck up? I don't have all day." Gavin says, impatiently tapping is foot on the floor. "Yes, detective." (Y/N) obeys. Connor's LED swirls yellow as he watches her go. "I have an unknown feeling." Connor says to Hank. "I think you may be worried, kiddo." Hank says, frowning. "And you wanna know somethin'?" Hank says, leaning towards Connor. "Me too."

Gavin huffs, slumping down in his desk chair, spinning around mindlessly. (Y/N) watches him, eyes following him as he spins. Gavin stops, glaring at her. "What did I say about the fuckin' staring, tin can?" He complains. "I apologize." VN says, looking somewhere else for his comfort. "Fuck it." Gavin announces. "I'm going home." He says, getting up from his chair. "I beleive we still have work to do, detective." VN says, her LED swirling blue. "Yeah well, Fowler can bitch at me tomorrow about it." He says, walking past her. VN quickly follows him. "I do not believe it is wise to leave your work unfinished." She says, referring to the stack of paperwork on his desk. She watches him swipe his card to clock out. He doesn't say away but holds his middle fingers up at her, with a strange expression. VN watches him exit. Her LED swirls yellow.

○ Follow Detective Reed

□ Stay at the Precinct

● Follow Detective Reed

(Y/N) walks through the automatic doors, following Gavin out to his car. Gavin glances over his shoulder, seeing her following him. He groans, stopping at his car. "What do you want?" He demands, unlocking his car. She stands on the other side of his car.

"I was assigned to help and assist you. I do not think leaving work to drink is a good idea, so I will be going with you to the bar." VN says, opening the car door and getting inside. Gavin stands there, mouth open. "Wait a damn minute." He protests, bending down to look at her sitting in the car. "You ain't doing shit! Get the fuck out." He orders. "I'm afriad I cannot comply, sir. According to your current physical and mental health, drinking alone could put you in danger." VN says, maintaining eyecontact. "Get out." Gavin says again. He wants to pull out his gun and shoot her brains out but something in him doesn't have the strength too. He's tired.

Yet another silent drive. Gavin's radio is turned up on a dangerously high level. VN isn't bothered but is worried about the effect on her partners ears. She concludes it is best to not comment, due to his recent outbursts. Gavin pulls up to Jimmy's, a local bar, and parks his car. Gavin opens the car door, putting his keys in his jacket. VN exits after locking the car doors. She walks behind the detective, deducting that he didn't want her by his side. She notices the package of cigarettes sticking out of his pocket. She assumes he has a lighter as well, somewhere on his person. 

Scanning...

[Jacket Scan Complete]

FELINE HAIR: 

• Burmese

• Chartreux

OTHER:

• Zippo Lighter (Sliver) 

    • Engraving: "Love you little bro. -Elijah"

• Cigarettes (Marlboro 12ct.)

• Car Keys (To: Camaro, Model: 2023)

• Stain - Front: Coffee (2 days old)

• Stain - Collar: Lacrimation from tear ducts

VN stops analyzing as they enter the bar. Gavin exhales, pretending he isn't being followed by a tin can. (Y/N) looks around. It's dimly lit, quiet. Music plays and it smells of alcohol, cigarettes, and cigars. She puts her hands behind her back, following Gavin to the bar. He pulls out a stool, hopping on top. A bartender, assumed to be Jimmy, saunters over to her partner. VN stands close to a wall, analyzing every detail of the bar. "Hey, kid." Jimmy says to Gavin. VN attempts to give Gavin privacy with the bartender but can't exactly turn off her sensors. " 'Sup." Gavin sighs, leaning against the bar. Jimmy chuckles, glancing at the out of place android against the wall. "That yours?" He teases, gesturing to (Y/N). "Don't give me that, J." Gavin scoffs. Jimmy laughs, boisterously. Gavin can't help but smile a little. Jimmy was pretty cool and he gave great philosophical advice. 

"Watcha want to drink, son?" Jimmy asks, turning to the wall of drinks. "Brandy on the rocks." Gavin says, pulling out his box of cigarettes and his lighter. Jimmy sighs. "Rough day, huh." He says, pouring his drink. (Y/N) watches carefully. She started to get an unknown sensation across multiple sensors in her being. She scanned herself for malfunction or errors. Nothing. VN tilts her head to herself. What was that sensation? It wasn't an error or a malfunction? Possibly a glitch. She shakes it off watching the detective. The sensation returns. She attempts to flush her systems, but it remains. She ignores it, concluding it was a glitch. "You can say that again." Gavin says. Jimmy slides him his drink watching him closely. "You look tired, kiddo." Jimmy comments, leaning against the other side of the countertop. Gavin chuckles. "Everyone says that. I'm fine, J." Gavin lies. "C'mon, Gavin. Talk to me. It's a slow night." Jimmy pries. Gavin sighs, lighting the cigarette between his fingers. He raises it to his lips, taking a drag. He looks down at his drink.

VN glances around the room, unintentionally listening. The sensation had left. She wasn't alive. She couldn't feel. It was a simple glitch. "It's been hard without him." Gavin says, taking a sip of his brandy. This peaks VN's intrest. "I know. You seem to care about him a lot." Jimmy responds. He must know more than she knows about the situation. Gavin glances at the android that accompanied him, downing his drink. Jimmy sighs again. "Is that thing givin' you trouble?" He asks, grabbing the glass to refill it. Gavin takes another drag of his cigarette. "Yeah it is. Fuckin' Fowler assigned it to me or whatever." Gavin says, words full of spite. VN feels the sensation return. Her LED blinks yellow.

Analyzing...

[Analysis Complete]

Malfunction?

[Access Denied]

(Y/N) blinks, LED pulsing red. She straightens her posture, ignoring the sensation, yet again. Jimmy nods, following Gavin's story. Gavin takes a swig of his drink again. "You two get along?" Jimmy asks, tapping on the counter behind him. "Fuck no." Gavin snickers. Jimmy smiles, almost sadly. "The things been following me around like a dog. Gets on my fuckin' nerves." Gavin sighs, finishing his second glass. (Y/N) notes his blood alcohol content. Jimmy grins at the detective. "Maybe she's there to help you. Ever thought about it that way?" J asks, grabbing his empty glass again, pausing. "Oh, that's utter bullshit. Don't side with them, Jimmy." Gavin spits, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. "I'm only sayin', maybe it's there for a reason, kid. You look like shit. It could help you, y'know." Jimmy shrugs, filling his glass again. Gavin snorts, feeling the buzz kick it. "Thanks, J. How nice." Gavin teases. "Give it a chance, Gav." Jimmy pushes. "No way in hell am I trusting a piece of plastic." Gavin argues, gladly accepting his third drink. (Y/N) decides to step in. "Detective," She starts. "Fuck off." Gavin grits, waving his hand at her. Jimmy watches the two. "I beleive you've had enough." She states, hands behind her back still. "This is only my third so fuck off." Gavin growls. He usually had a better alcohol tolerance but not today.

"Your BAC is nine point two and increasing. This can impair your judgement and functioning." (Y/N) says. Gavin laughs. "You're not my babysitter, tin can." He says, lifting the glass to his lips. VN snatches the glass out of his hand, putting it on the bar. "What the fuck?" Gavin hollers, clambering out of his chair, almost falling in the process. "The alcohol had already taken affect, impairing your vital judgment. It is time to leave, sir." (Y/N) says, sternly. Her LED blinks yellow, analyzing his next move. Gavin reaches for his gun, which VN anticipated. She reaches forwards, knocking the gun out of his hands. "Hey, hey, hey!" Jimmy shouts. "No blood on my floor!" He says. A few people have formed a crowd around Gavin and the android. "Detective, we are leaving." (Y/N) says, picking his gun off the floor and pocketing it. "You fuckin' piece of shit," Gavin slurs. "You think you came come in and- and fuckin' steal my job, huh?" He raises his voice, grabbing her by her uniform again. (Y/N) looks down at him. She notes the pain, evident behind is glassy eyes.

○ Let Detective Reed continue 

□ Render Detective Reed unconscious

■ Render Detective Reed unconscious

"Detective, I apologize, but this is for your own good." She says, gaining a confused look from Gavin. She presses her fingers into the point where his neck and shoulder meet. Gavin crumbles to the ground, (Y/N) catching him before he hits the ground. VN wraps his limp arm over her shoulders, hoisting him up. "I apologize, sir." She says to Jimmy. "Eh, don't worry about it. His drinks were on the house anyway." Jimmy says, waving her off. "Take care of him, okay?" Jimmy says. (Y/N)'s thiruim pump falters for a moment, catching her off guard. She scans herself again, not finding anything wrong. The crowd had disappeared, seeing that there would be no fight. She gives Jimmy at curt nod before bascially dragged her partner out the door.

(Y/N) had successfully put Gavin in the passenger seat, starting his car. She pulls out into the road. She had located the detective's apartment, following the coordinates. Once she arrives, Gavin is still unconscious. She drags him out of the car. It would be easier to carry him in her arms, so she does. Walking up several flights of stairs, she reaches his apartment door. She glances down at the keys on his key ring and then at the lock, analyzing the differnt key prongs and the internal structure of the lock. She selects the correct key, unlocking the door. Several cats, greet her at the door. A Burmese and a Chartreux cat. They purr and meow at her as she closes the door. (Y/N) scans the apartment. It's quite messy. The trash seems as if it hasn't been taken out in weeks, pizza boxes litter the counter and differnt files and papers litter the living room. (Y/N) contiunes, walking into Gavin's bedroom. Clothes cover the floor, along with an unmade bed. She sets her partner in the bed. She surveys the room again, finding the comforter on the ground. She nods to herself.

(Y/N) carefully removes his jacket, hanging it on a hook behind his bedroom door. She covers him with the comforter, studying him. He seems peaceful. His face, relaxed. No tension is held between is eyebrows. She tilts her head, reaching towards his face. There it is. The strange sensation in her sensors. She gently brushes his hair out of his eyes, almost mesmerized by how peaceful he is, compared to when he's consious. (Y/N) quickly pulls away as he rolls over in the bed, grunting in his sleep. She looks around his room again. It was very unorganized. She walks over to his half empty dresser, pushing the folded clothes back in order. She closes the drawers, gently. VN then, straightens the differnt colognes and pictures frames on his dresser. One catches her eyes. A picture of, what she assumes is Gavin as a teen, and another male. She tilts her head, the male seeming familiar. She straightens the frame, ignoring it.

VN picks up the dirty clothes off the floor, placing them in the hamper in the corner of Gavin's room. She could see the floor now. She turns off the lamp on his nightstand, straightening the things on top if it as well. She looks around the mostly clean room, leaving Gavin's room. She then drags the overflowing laundry basket out of his room. She closes the door behind her, seeing his cats staring at her. She looks down at the Burmese one as it rubs against her leg. She watches them pad off into another room. (Y/N) looks down the short hallway seeing the bathroom. She peeks inside. It was spotless. Strange. She walks into an empty room, what she assumes to be a guest room. It holds nothing. She walks out, going back to the main living room. Papers, magazines, files, newspapers. You name it. She grabs the file box in the couch, picking up all the papers and files, organizing them alphabetically. It took all but thirty minutes an twenty seconds. She puts the file box beside the couch. She puts all of the magazines and newspapers neatly on the coffee table. She picks up all of the empty and half empty coffee mugs, placing them softly in the sink. She would load his dishwasher later. 

(Y/N) straightens his crooked TV on the wall. She then proceeds to organize his movies by type, then alphabetically. The living room was finished. She clicks on the lamp, closing the curtains. The sun was setting outside. It was six twenty-two. Androids didn't need sleep but she decided that when she finishes she would enter low-power mode to pass the time. She heads to the kitchen. It was filthy. (Y/N)'s LED circles blue. She grabs all of the dishes that were dirty and puts them neatly in the dishwasher. She puts the soap in, turning it on. She grabs a trash bag, placing the numerous empty pizza boxes inside. She empties the trash putting the bags by the front door. The cats come back in, hearing her working. "Hello." (Y/N) says, kneeling beside the cats. She looks at their collars. Coco and Bean. Who knew the detective liked cats, owned them, and gave them matching names. (Y/N) stands, beginning to wipe down the countertops, that were dusty and covering in crumbs. She puts the leftover pizza that wasn't old or moldy in the almost empty refrigerator. She rolls up her jacket sleeves disinfecting the grime in the sink. She notices his landlines blinking on the counter. She lets the chemical sit in the sink, walking over to the phone. Twenty new messages from the same number with the name Eli. She concludes it would be best to leave them be. 

(Y/N) had loaded the washing machine with Gavin's dirty clothes. She had taken the towel from the dryer and folded them neatly, placing them in the linen closet. She rinses the sink next. Spotless. The apartment looked organized and neat. Nothing like the detective from the outside. It was currently twelve forty three. She blinks, hearing the dishwasher stop. She unloads it putting the coffe mugs, plates and utensils back in their respective places. Ealier, she had hauled the trash down to the dumpster behind the apartment complex. She was satisfied with the outcome.

(Y/N) completed all of the detective's laundry leaving it neatly folded ontop of the washer and dryer. She didn't want to disturb his slumber by putting away his clothes. She was finished. VN puts the detective's gun in a drawee in the kitchen. She walks over to the couch, sitting down. The cats jumps up, one testing in her lap and the other lying down beside her. She was interested in why the cats liked her so much. She'd have to research it later. She decided to enter low-power mode.

Low-Power Mode Loading...

[Entering Low-Power Mode]

3...

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-LOW-POWER MODE ON-

taglist

@sweet-sage-tea, @bts17army

#gavin my beloved #gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #detroit become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #hank and connor #dbh fic #x reader

[bangtan-madi]

noel on ice — kim namjoon

Pairing — Namjoon x Reader, feat. minor mention of Jungkook x OC

Genre — fluff, holiday, minor angst, mental health

Tags — strangers to lovers, figure skater!Namjoon, barista!MC, non-idol au, figure skater au, café au, holiday au

Word Count — 16k

Summary —  After sustaining a crushing defeat at the World Figure Skating Championships, falling from his perfect gold standard to his long-time rival, Kim Namjoon returns to South Korea with an unsure heart and accompanying injury. At the same time, Y/N is as far from home as she has ever been due to a falling out with her family, working as a barista at a café in Seoul while trying to finish her degree. As if by fate, the two meet, and Namjoon makes it his goal to make Y/N see the magic of the holidays -- one Christmas adventure across Seoul at a time. 

Warnings — minor language, brief anxiety attack, mentions of ptsd related symptoms

A/N — This year has been a very difficult one for us all. For my fic in this Christmas collab, I wanted to acknowledge all of that and give a little mental health break for everyone. All of our experiences have been different, but one thing we all have in common is that 2020 was unexpected, painful, and heavy. Please, no matter what holiday you celebrate, let yourself have as much rest and healing as you need. If this little, probably-needs-more-editing-than-I-had-time-for fic can help you get there — even just for the twenty minutes it takes to read — then my job is done ❤️ I love you all, and I know I speak for the others when I say I hope 2021 treats us all so much kinder, and I hope we learn to love ourselves in spite of our worlds around us.

Playlist — Link here.

Christmas Collaboration — this fic is a part of the Christmas Collab by @kooala (link coming soon!)

"Hey—Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Raising your head slightly, your eyes widening as you realize you've zoned out again, focusing on the snowfall outside instead of the next customer in line. The woman waving her hand in front of you is as foreign to South Korea as you are, but her expression is entirely that of an angry American. Her scowl has etched deep lines into her skin, where smile lines should be.

Unfortunately, her face is all too familiar. Usually it pays to be one of the only native English-speakers at your café; however, when Americans come in, you're the one pushes to take their orders and serve them.

Even the most difficult ones.

"S—Sorry, Ma'am," you mutter. Shaking your head, you force a customer-service smile. "I was just admiring the snowfall. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Oh, yeah," she retorts sarcastically. "So beautiful that it's making travel home nearly impossible. Can you please just make my drink so I can leave?"

"I—I didn't hear it, Ma'am. Can you repeat it please?"

While the woman rolls her eyes, she repeats her order swiftly, muttering something along the lines of, "Baristas these days, I swear to god," under her breath. "Make sure to get it right this time. Every time I come in and order a blended cappuccino, you guys end up giving me a latte, which is not what I ordered."

"And every time, we have to explain that all a latte is, is a blended cappuccin—"

"—I don't want to hear it!"

With a sigh, you ring up the total for the "blended cappuccino, not latte" and let the woman pay. From the sidelines, your co-worker Lisa stands with a glare and a tin of heated milk ready to go for your order.

"Ms. Blended cappuccino again?" she asks as you turn towards her with a note written in perfect Hangul.

You nod, running  a hand over your hair in frustration. "I hate being the only native bi-lingual person here. Means I get to deal with her every damn time."

Sensing your downtrodden spirit, Lisa pushes you out of the way, giving you a gentle shove towards the back room. "I got this one. Go take a breather in the back, okay?"

"But—"

"—Ah! No buts. I know enough English to get by."

From the front desk, the woman pipes up again, demanding her drink be made faster. Lisa marches past your, arms herself with the imaginary drink, and says in perfect English, "You're in Seoul now. Speak Korean."

Knowing Lisa can handle the absolute hell-spawn that is an angry American Karen, you turn your back to the drama and shuffle to the break room behind the "employees only" door. An exasperated breath escapes as you revel in the silence, pushing away the muffled café sounds on the other side of the door. Being the only one in the break room, you spot your favorite white chocolate mocha on the side table, with a smiley face sticky note indicating it's from Lisa beside it.

You smile gently at the sweet gesture, and shove the sticky note into your pocket as a reminder to yourself to thank her later.

Taking the mug between your overworked hands, you settle down on the window seat and watch the December sky slowly shift from violet to navy. The mocha is just slightly sweet with a hint of peppermint, just like you like it. It's almost enough to illicit the Christmas spirit lying dormant inside you.

There's something incredibly painful about this particular holiday season, you think to yourself as the cars pass swiftly on the street outside. The glittering lights, the beautiful carols, the crystalline snow — none of it feels the same as last year.  The holidays are supposed to be a time of comfort and renewal, but this year — after moving halfway around the world by yourself — your heart is starting to wonder if that part of you has died.

Maybe it's the loneliness you're feeling, or maybe it's the fact that you're so far away from home. Or maybe it's the fresh-in-your-mind arguments and falling out with your family over the summer. That bitter taste lingers still in the back of your throat, not unlike a dark espresso.  A Christmas season without your parents and siblings; you never thought living your own life and following your happiness could hurt so much. For better or worse, that nostalgic feeling family and friends bring is long gone. And now you're nostalgic for nostalgia itself; what kind of messed up feeling is that?

You've had twenty-four wondrous, magical holiday seasons. Is it part of growing up that your allotment of joyful Christmas days is limited?

Is twenty-five the year that the magic just...stops?

When the night sky becomes unchanging, the door to the café kitchen opens. Lisa peeks her head inside, side-bangs falling in her face. "How's the mocha? Did I get it right?"

You take the last sip with a grateful smile, then place the mug onto the coffee table. "You nailed it. Thank you, I needed that."

Pride swells in Lisa's chest, and her shoulders straighten as she enters the room. "Well, good news. Karen's gone," she announces, "and your favorite customer is here!"

"Who?"

Lisa places her hand horizontally at her hip-level. "About this tall? Loves peppermint hot choco?

Bolting from your seat, all your concerns are momentarily gone. Your co-worker doesn't have to utter another word to get you to exit the back room and reenter the kitchen.

Across the counter, a mop of black hair is barely visible. Dark brown eyes peer over the granite surface; they twinkle and shine at the sight of you. Tiny hands splay on the surface in an attempt to make the small child taller. He's around seven to eight years, you estimate. Nine or ten at the very most. Definitely not out of primary school. And he's your very favorite customer, because unlike most, this child comes in with a toothy grin almost every single day with enough money for a peppermint hot chocolate. He's never late, and he's never unhappy. If the Sun were to bless the world with a ray of sunshine in human form, this kid would be it.

"Ahjumma!" the little boy shouts, a grin plastered on his face.

Instead of having him crane his neck, you walk around the counter, bend down on one knee, and ignore the other customers behind him. Pulling one of the tiny baked goods from your apron pocket, you offer the sweet to the child with a wink.

"You're here awfully late, Yeongu. You're usually here right after school lets out. It's already after dark."

Yeongu digs through his pocket and pulls out several crumpled won, enough for his beverage of choice. "Tomorrow is the last day before Christmas break, so dad picked me up and took me skating. I'm with mom and her boyfriend for the rest of the month 'cause Dad's going to Busan with his new wife. I don't like her that much. She frowns too much. And she smells like soju and taffy."

You exchange the won for the baked treat, laughing softly as you invite the boy onto the corner table nearest the hot chocolate machines. "You don't like taffy, do you?"

He makes a face and takes a big bite of the delicacy. "My teacher tells us that if we eat taffy, it will help us remember things. I ate too much of it last year, and now I hate it. Dad's new wife must always be forgetting things, because she always smells like it!"

After finishing the simple drink, you slide the mug across the table and plop down in the seat across from the small boy. "So does this mean I won't get to see you until after Christmas?"

Yeongu shakes his head. "I'll be by tomorrow after. Mom wanted to visit my cousin before we left. He's back in town for Christmas, and we haven't seen him in a long time."

"Oh? What does he do?"

"Sports."

At that, the boy changes the conversation. "What are you doing for Christmas, Ahjumma?"

"Yeah, Ahjumma," Lisa pipes up after serving the final to-go customer for the night. She flips the sign on the front door and turns back to the two of you, hand on her hip. "What are you doing for your first Christmas in Korea?"

Shrugging slightly, you turn your attention back to the small child across from you. "I'll probably spend the day with Mochi — my cat — probably studying so I'll be ahead in the new year for my next classes." Lisa gives an empathetic look at the mention of your kitten, which causes you to roll your eyes playfully. "Don't give me that look! I'll be fine. Probably best for me to have a relaxed, non-hectic couple of days. This year has been a rough one."

"That sounds sad," Yeongu states bluntly, earning a snicker from Lisa.

"Kid's right. Absolutely dreadful, [Y/n]. What a lame Christmas."

"What about you, then? Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

At the question, Lisa's smirk drops and she perks up. "Well, I'm sure you know, but Christmas in Korea is pretty different from America," Lisa reminds you, and you nod your acknowledgement. "It's more of a couple holiday, so my boyfriend Jungkook and I are planning to take the week off and do a ton of holiday activities together. Mostly outdoors stuff. Y'know, snowboarding, skiing, snowball fights — the usual."

"Sounds like a blast," you laugh.

"Oh, it will be." She gives a wink, then nods to Yeongu. "Are we about done here? I need to head out if you're okay with locking up for the night."

You give a wave of approval as the child nears the end of his glass. "I got this. Say hello to Jungkookie for me."

Lisa flashes a set of extravagant finger hearts before disappearing into the back, where she gathers her personal items and exits out the rear entrance. In her absence, Yeongu tugs on your sleeve and holds up an empty mug.

"Thank you for the hot choco, Ahjumma," he grins, showing the dark stain on his upper lip.

Taking the mug, you use the edge of your apron to clean the mess from his face. "If you come by tomorrow before you leave with your Eomma, I'll make you another with extra peppermint, okay?"

The boy's smile grows, and he hops up from the table with a swift bow. "I'll be here!" He heads for the door with a skip in his step.

"Will you get home all right?" you call after him.

Yeongu turns and grins. "I will, don't worry, Ahjumma!"

And then he's gone, out the door in a rush of energy and giggles towards his home nearby. You merely shake your head; there's no point in going after him now.

Soon after, you're following in his step. It doesn't take you long to clean up. By the time you lock up and exit out the back, snow has begun to fall. You brave the cold, tugging your coat tighter around you, burying your face into your scarf. The journey to the subway is short, and your feet take you quickly. Even still, you stare upward at the snowy clouds in hope that they might spark a semblance of Christmas joy in your heart.

Tonight, like every other night, nothing changes.

You heave a sigh, and the breath billows out as a visible fog as you enter the station. Going through the motions to get to your apartment is easy. A swipe of a card, a short ride to the edge of the neighborhood, and a trek up the set of stairs. Once through the door, you're greeted by a mewing shadow of a cat.

"Hi, my baby girl," you greet with a soft smile, bending down to scratch the tiny fur ball behind the ears. The black cat rubs her chin against your palm and follows you when you waltz to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

As if responding, "Yes!" Mochi speeds up and meows a bit louder than last time.

Her antics bring a smile to your face as you turn on the television for background noise. You find the nearest Korean news station, finding the program in the middle of a report on Korea's favorite rap duo and their upcoming tour: Suga and J-Hope. Your intention with the selection is two-fold — first, to continue to enhance your skills of the Korean language, and two, to continue learning about the culture and world of your new home. While you had extensive knowledge of both before moving to Seoul — despite the process being rather quick due to the fallout with your family — nothing compares to being immersed in the country itself.

As the musical entertainment section ends, you begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard. "What do you think sounds good, Mochi? How about teokbokki?" The black cat perches her paws on your right leg, purring pleasantly. "I agree, sounds great after a long day."

You toss a bag of rice cakes onto the counter as the news changes to sports. Even as you prepare the sauce for the meal, you actively listen to the voices in the background.

"Unfortunately, RM Nam's ice skating season has been cut short due to an unforeseen injury he sustained during practice this summer. At the time, the damage to his shoulder seemed unnoticed by the athlete and his coach. However, as we saw earlier this October at the Grant Prix Series: Skate America, Mr. Nam's mishap on the ice turned out to be far more damaging than originally thought. Thus, the position representing South Korea at the next in the series, Skate Canada, was shifted to his rival, Kim Seokjin, and RM Nam returned home to Seoul to recover."

You can't but help a glance up at the screen. The skater in question has his back turned to the cameras as he heads into the airport. Behind his sunglasses, mask, and beanie, he offers a polite smile and wave to the reporters. Moments later, his coach guides him into the building, out of sight.

"That doesn't sound fun," you mutter to yourself as the report moves onto politics.

After you finish cooking, you plate yourself a portion and move into the living room. Besides the tiny tan sofa and the television propped up on a box, most of the room is bare. There are a handful of boxes strewn across the apartment of the few things you either had shipped from the States or that you bought in your six months since then, but for the most part, you've been putting off all of it. Most of your time is spent at work or at school; you haven't had the time, energy, or motivation to do any of it. Even at Christmas, despite Lisa gifting you with your very own tiny tree and twinkle lights to spread across the home, you've yet to unpack any of it. The tree remains in the slender box beside the TV, and you doubt it will go up this year at all.

Heaving a sigh at the thought, you turn the channel to VIKI put on your favorite drama. This particular one is a reincarnation plot with two male leads played by Korea's golden boys: Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Paired with the bowl of teokkboki in your lap and the kitten curled to your side, it's enough to drag you thoughts out of homesickness and back to the present.

This might just have to be the Christmas you forget and hope that the next year is a kinder one.

A lot changed in your life this year. In some ways, the changes were good. In others, not so much. Most of the turbulent times were in the heat of the summer, but things began slowing down once you moved to South Korea in September. You were now away from toxic family members, away from a life you never wanted, and looking ahead to an uncertain but certainly hopeful future.

In late October, the seasons began changing for the better — and not just in the physical sense of the falling leaves and cooler breeze. Lisa was right about your favorite customer; it truly was little Yeongu. However, there was another that you looked forward to seeing, just as much as the elementary school boy.

This person was older, around your age, with a deeply dimpled smile that made your stomach flutter. Eyes as slender as his body proportions, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't an attractive man. Hair the color of the snowflakes he walked through, eyes the color of the beverage he'd always order, skin the color of warmth in a cozy fireplace. Even his voice was warm and deep; at every conversation, while you are completely fluent in Korean, you find yourself just wanting to listen to the soft timbre.

Over time, this man — whose name you'd quickly learn was Kim Namjoon — became a regular at your little coffee shop. He'd come in at the oddest hours, either super early or super late. Hours you often worked alone, when there were fewer customers. Every time, he'd strike up a conversation as you took his order and crafted his beverage of choice (a heavy coffee brewed dark and bitter, with just a splash of cream and almond whip.) He was sweet, and eventually you opened up. He'd hang around the counter long after the transaction was completed, sometimes until another customer stole your attention away. It didn't take long for you to realize that he was far more than merely a pretty face.

In those weeks leading up to December, you found yourself smiling a bit more. Joking a bit more. Shoulders lightening a bit more. You looked forward to the increasingly insistent days where he'd waltz in — sometimes covered in raindrops, sometimes in crisp leaves, sometimes in snowflakes — always a crystal blue umbrella under his arm and a charcoal grey scarf around his neck.

It's the same person standing at the entrance now, the man currently shaking the rain from his umbrella and platinum locks. Lisa gives you a smirk as she nods her head towards the register and steps away from the counter, as if silently saying, "You're up, m'lady. Holler if you need me; I'll be doing an order in the back."

You brush your hair back into proper place, display a genuine smile, and take your stance behind the register. When Namjoon's eyes meet yours, his smile deepens and creates dimples on either side of his mouth.

After the customer in front of him pays and leaves with his order in hand, you greet him with a simple, "You haven't been in, in over a week. Finally trying to break your caffeine addiction?"

Namjoon gives a deep laugh and shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. I like being able to function as an adult in society, thank you very much." He pulls out several won from his wallet. "I'll have..."

"The usual?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "You remember?"

"Of course," you grin, and type his drink of choice into the register. Taking his money, you add, "How could I forget your order after the hilarious reaction when I suggested a mint mocha?"

The boy thinks back to the first day he walked into the café, and recalls that conversation with a groan. "Oh god, was I that bad?"

Handing him his change, you tap your chin and reply, "Well, maybe a bit. I'd never seen someone so horrified at the idea of mint chocolate."

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. Pretty terrible at hiding my disdain for that flavor combo."

"No worries! Made me laugh."

Seeing that there are no other customers behind him, you turn to the brewing station and usher Namjoon to take a seat on the bar stool across the counter. It's a position you've taken several times before. When the customers are low, as they are at this hour of evening, the platinum-haired man tends to linger and converse far after his drink is finished.

"What brings you in today? Just wanted a pick-me-up or?"

Namjoon heaves a sigh. He watches you closely but casually, silently admiring the skillful way you begin to brew the dark beverage. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, and coming here always helps me de-stress."

"Coffee helps you relax?" You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment.

"And the company."

Heat rushes to your face, and when you glance up to meet his gaze, the warmth only increases. "You're smooth, Kim Namjoon. Very smooth."

Brown eyes widen, and he bows his head so that his bangs cover his eyes. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"Calm down, you're fine. Wanna talk about what's on your mind, though?"

In all your conversations, the two of you have only ever talked on the shallow surface of various topics. You don't know much about Namjoon, and he doesn't know much about you — despite having shared extremely vague information about your year, your jobs, and your education. You feel very open with him, but most of the time, those conversations can't be had in a fifteen minute discussion at a café.

"It's a long, complicated story. I'm not sure you'd wanna hear it." He raises his hands defensively as he realizes how his words might be construed. "Not that you wouldn't understand! I just wouldn't want to be a downer."

You select the cold brew setting on the machine and let the device begin to whir to life. "Well, I've got at least the time it takes to make your drink. I'm all ears."

Namjoon shakes his head as he settles his elbows on the counter. "You're persistent."

"Honey, I've been called far worse."

Seeing your eagerness, your companion heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze from you to the window at his right. As be begins to speak, his demeanor falls a bit. He's not as happy-go-lucky; there's an err of anxiety about him that you can't quite nail down. "I've been thinking about a change in career recently. Things haven't been unfolding this year like I wanted...and I'm starting to think I'm not meant to do what I'm doing now. Maybe I need to retire — from this industry, I mean, and move on to another."

Even with that small confession, you can't help but mirror his emotions. "I hear you. I've felt similar feelings this year."

His gaze shifts back to yours, and he tilts his head in surprise. "Really? How so?"

"I told you I moved to Seoul in September, right?" Namjoon nods. "That's because I wanted a...a fresh start. I enrolled in Yonsei University, got a job here, and just...moved."

"That's pretty brave, and that's really awesome you're at Yonsei. They're a fantastic school."

"Thanks," you grin whilst popping the canister of cold brew out from under the brewing machine. "I needed to get away from certain people in my life that weren't letting me move forward, so moving was the best choice." You pour the dark beverage into a small mixer and pull out the vanilla creamer. "Sure you don't want mint this time? Last chance."

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow as a silent challenge; the expression makes you giggle to yourself as you pour the very non-mint add-ins. "Hilarious."

"Hey! Just offering." After giving the mixture a whisk, your smile falters.

Nothing gets by the observant person across the counter. "I feel like your story has a 'but' after what you ended with."

"You're good," you reply, gesturing to him with the handheld whisk. "I'm not talking too much, am I?"

Namjoon shakes his head adamantly and flourishes with his hand for you to continue. "I mean, we're practically friends now. Please, go on."

Reassured by both his calming nature and genuine interest, you continue talking. "But after getting here...let's just say it's hard to make friends and get out there in a country where you look so different, where your language isn't native, and where you know literally no one. So...ah, this year's been a pretty lonely one, and I know I still made the right choice, but now that the holidays are here..." You trail off and offer a small smile. "All that to say, I know what it's like to second-guess yourself and not have things go the way you thought."

"Seems we have a lot in common," he chuckles, leaning his chin on his hand.

The comment causes the mood to lighten, and you let a laugh slip out. "Yeah, seems so."

Before the conversation can continue, the front door opens. Yeongu enters, a couple of other customers behind him. As if on cue, Lisa enters from the back room and greets the adults with a smile and a swift, "Hi, welcome! What can I get you this evening?"

As the child approaches the adjacent counter where you stand, his grin widens. You perch your elbows on the counter and lean over. "How's my favorite customer?"

"I'm finally free from school, Ahjumma!" Yeongu cheers loudly.

"Congrats! I'm sure you're relieved." He nods affirmatively. "t's freezing outside. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, I promise. But can I get a mint hot choco?" He holds up a crumpled bill with a toothy grin.

"Of course, you can. Extra mint, just like I promised." You nod towards the seat closest to the window. "Sit in your usual spot, okay? After I get this nice man his coffee, I'll get your hot chocolate."

As Namjoon turns to look at the child, Yeongu's eyes widen in surprise. "Namjoon-hyung! I didn't know you were here."

Much to your shock, Namjoon reciprocates the affection and hops down from his chair to bend down to Yeongu's level. "Yeon-ie!" He teases the boy by ruffling up his hair, which Yeongu scowls at him for.

"Um... You two know each other?"

"Yep!" Yeongu grins. "He's my cousin, the one I told you about yesterday."

"Oooh, that makes sense. Didn't realize my two favorite customers were related."

Yeongu laughs at the comment and hops into the chair beside Namjoon. "But I'm your favorite customer, right?"

"Of course," you tease, flashing him a playful wink.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Ahjumma, can I please have mine in a to-go cup? Mom told me to come right home so we can finish packing for our trip."

"Of course, give me just a second to get you a lid." You turn to your first customer with an apologetic smile. "Namjoon, I'm almost done with yours. Just give me a moment."

"Actually, do you mind putting mine in a to-go cup as well?" He jerks his thumb towards Yeongu. "I should probably walk him home. He lives just around the corner from me. I'd feel better if I did."

"Oh, sure, I can do that."

"Would you walk with us, Ahjumma? Pleeeease?"

Your gaze moves to Namjoon. "Do you mind?"

The elder cousin hops up from his chair, shaking his head adamantly. "Not at all! Can you?"

"Sure, I'm about at the end of my shift anyway! Let me grab my coat. I'll come with." You turn quickly to Lisa, murmuring, "Can you watch—?"

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "—Go! I can close up for the night. But if you don't come back with a date planned, the invitation to spend New Years with Jungkookie and me is rescinded."

With a playful eye-roll, you peck her on the cheek and run to the back for your coat. Once you return, you find Namjoon scuffling Yeongu's dark locks with a dimpled smile. Looking back up as you return, the expression doesn't falter.

"Ready?"

You nod and follow behind through the exit, trying to ignore the wink and dual thumbs-ups Lisa flashes you as you pass.

Once on the street, Yeongu walks ahead of you and Namjoon. The first few minutes are silent between you two. From ahead, you can hear the small child talking to himself, or perhaps his hot chocolate, and then occasionally to the adults.

As you cross the busy street, Namjoon clears his throat. "So...you have any plans for Christmas?"

You scoff under your breath and shake your head. "Why does this topic keep coming up?"

"Hope I didn't offend," he laughs. "Yeongu said something about a café girl not having plans last night. I figured it was you."

"Trust me, you're good. But yeaaah. Kinda new to Korea. I spent the fall settling in and trying to start over. Between work and school, didn't expect much. Holidays sneaked up on me, I guess."

There's a pause as the trio rounds the corner. Yeongu finishes his hot cocoa along the way and hands the empty cup to Namjoon. The elder doesn't even hesitate to take it, and the boy rushes ahead to what you assume is his home. Over his shoulder, he shouts, "Thank you for the choco, Ahjumma!"

You grin widely and wave. "You're welcome!"

Yeongu turns to Namjoon, sticks out his tongue in a playful manner, then disappears into his house.

"Aaand that's the thanks I get." Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention as the sun sets behind Seoul Tower. "I have a crazy idea."

"Oh, really?" You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. "Those are my favorite kind of ideas."

"Cheesy," he grins. "Well...I don't have any plans either. Maybe we spend it together?"

"No plans, huh? Do I look that pitiful?"

"No! No, it's not that at all, god." Namjoon's smirk falls from his face as a horrified expression drowns out any humor. "Sorry if that's how it came off. I just—You seem really nice, and it's been a while since either of us just enjoyed someone else's company. No strings. No pressure."

Tugging your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffle in your step. "I don't know, Namjoon..."

"Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I hate to see anyone's shoulders so heavy in December. How about this — give me three days to prove the magic isn't lost."

"Three days? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay then, Mr. Kim." You offer a hand in his direction. "Three days."

Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, as does his hand. "It's a deal."

The following weekend you wake to a phone call coming in from your recently-added number. Rolling out from under the covers to grab the device from the nightstand, you answer with voice still groggy with sleep. "Hello?"

"Are you still sleeping?" the caller laughs in a deep timbre.

"Shuddup." Peaking an eye open, the time on the screen reads just after eleven a.m. "It's not that late."

"Really?"

"Did you call me just to make fun of my lack of healthy sleep schedule, or did you have a point?"

"Ouch!” Namjoon exclaims playfully. “I actually did call, and it's actually perfect because I don't need you ready to go until around three this afternoon. So you can totally just go back to sleep."

You curl back under your heated blanket and revel in the warmth it provides. Beside you, Mochi curls closer, nearly sitting on your head. "Mmm sounds perfect. Wait—what?"

"You heard me." There's a hint of teasing in Namjoon's words. "It's Day 1. Be ready for an outdoor adventure by three. I'll pick you up then, okay sleepyhead?"

The butterflies rumble in your stomach at the nickname, and you clear your throat before replying. "Yep, got it. Three p.m. Outdoor adventure. Can't you tell me what it is or where we're going?"

"And ruin the surprise? No way. Just trust me, Jagi."

A squeak slips out, and you throw your hand over your mouth to hide it. "Okay, see you there—I mean then!"

You can almost hear Namjoon shaking his head as he says his goodbyes and ends the call. Despite still being sleepy and warm and cozy in your nest, you lie wide awake in bed for the next half-hour, replaying his voice over and over in your head like a well-loved record.

The day flies by, and eventually it's approaching three. You've dressed to impress while still trying to keep it casual. Despite this being a date, it's still casual. You like Namjoon a lot, and you hope he likes you as well. However, outside of conversations at the café, you haven't spent a lot of time together yet. This is as good a second-first impression as any, and you intend to make the most of it.

Grabbing your winter coat and scarf, you scurry down the stairs and spot Namjoon lingering by the entrance with two cups in his hands. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater with a dark grey jacket over top, his usual scarf looped twice around his neck. A beanie covers his head, but bits of his platinum hair still stick out in places. Slung across his shoulder is a brown leather backpack. He always looks nice, that much you know, but the fact that today he looks nice for you makes you sickly happy.

He flashes a smile as you bound out the door. "You look rested," he teases, then offers you one of the cups.

Taking it with a nose scrunch, you look down at the order on the side, seeing that it's your usual order. "How did you know!"

He shrugs. "I have my ways."

"Was it Lisa?"

"Maybe..." He straightens up and nods his chin towards the nearby station. "Follow me for our first adventure!"

After boarding the train to Itaewon, you can't help but wonder where he might be taking you. Your mind goes through all of the things to do in Itaewon, but the list is lengthy. From his excited and proud expression, you know Namjoon has been looking forward to this all day, just as you have.

After exiting fifteen minutes down the line, Namjoon reaches for your free hand. "May I...?"

Your fingers close the distance, glove-covered palm clasping his. "Lead the way."

Namjoon grins, then tugs on your hand as you exit the station. Once outside in the frigid air, you see your breath come out in puffs of fog. You tighten your scarf around your neck and allow your companion to usher you down the sidewalk, towards a clearing in the colorful buildings of Itaewon-do.

Another block or so, and you see the direction in which he's heading. A large sign along the way reads, "Grant Hyatt Seoul Ice Rink" in bold Hangul. Your eyes widen as the realization hits you, and the excitement inside you grows. "How did you know I've wanted to go ice skating!"

Namjoon shuffles up to the ticket counter, replying over his shoulder, "Um...lucky guess?"

As he purchases your tickets, you take a moment to absorb your surroundings.  The trees are glowing from the lights covering every branch and trunk. They surround the rink and give a glow from within that is so much softer and more intimate than the harsh lighting of the city. The Hyatt Hotel stands as a black silhouette against the horizon. In the opposite direction, you can see N. Seoul Tower already lit up as the afternoon lighting shifts to evening. Projectors shine shapes of glittering snowflakes across the ice, giving another layer of ambient lighting to the rink.

"I haven't been since I was a kid," you add, staring at the exterior of the open-air rink with awe. Namjoon hands you the ticket, which you use for entrance and skates before shoving it into your jacket pocket. "Have you ever been before?"

"Yeah, a...few times. Hey, what size shoe are you?" When you tell him, Namjoon grabs a pair of skates from the shelf beside the ticket booth and gestures for you to sit on the bench across from it. "It can be tricky to lace your skates properly," he commentates as he kneels down in front of you and begins to untie your boots. "It's really something you have to adjust yourself, so let me know when I'm close?"

Not having any words to respond at his sudden closeness, you nod the affirmative and watch in silence as he puts one boot to the side, slips the skate on with ease, and begins to adjust the laces like a professional. After repeating the movements with your other skate, he taps your knee and looks up at you.

"Too loose? You want them to be as tight as you can handle to keep your ankles steady."

Moving your feet, you shake your head from side to side. "A bit more. I'd hate to have Day 1 turn into a trip to the E.R."

"Definitely, nothing says ‘Christmas magic’ like an emergency room visit," he laughs, adjusting your laces as you requested. "How's that?"

"Much better, thank you."

After lacing up your skates as tight as you can handle, Namjoon stands and offers you an arm. He helps you waddle over to the entrance, gently sliding you onto the ice despite your shaky knees and flailing arms. You soon realize that it might be best to hold tight to the barrier and stick only to the periphery.

He doesn't follow you on at first. When you turn and look back for him, he waves you on. "You go ahead. I need to grab my skates first."

"Mmm fine, but if I break my neck trying to catch your ass, you're paying for ramen after. Got it?"

Namjoon gives you two thumbs ups as he lets you go onto the ice. "Loud and clear."

Eventually, you begin tugging yourself along, trying but failing to keep up with the traffic of more experienced skaters. Even compared to those half your age, or even less, you're the child on this rink.

About half-way around the rink, you spot Namjoon making his way towards the entrance. Waving your hand, your smile widens when he sees you. He waves back, nearly bumps into the person ahead of him at the gate, and you murmur to yourself, "This should be good."

Namjoon hits the ice. He's not like the barreling disaster you are, but like a graceful swan. It catches you off-guard; if anything, you expected him to fall flat on his face or tumble over a child on his way over to you on the opposite side. He needs no assistance from the railing, nor does he struggle to cross the center and come to a full stop in front of you. His skates make a graceful scraping sound, and his stance is one of a professional. Even his skates are different than yours; they're custom, and you realize that must've been what he was carrying in his backpack.

You assume the awestruck look on your face is the reason for his smirk and laughter. He does a spin for dramatic affect as he closes the distance between you. "Surprised?"

"For starters! How the hell are you so graceful? You're literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface, and I can barely make a left turn!"

The platinum blond gives you a look like you're still missing the point, then extends his hand. "C'mon, I can help you more than the railing can."

"Promise not to sue me if I break your face by crashing into you?"

"Promise, now grab my hand and skate!"

Your hands in his, you take the leap of faith and separate from the barrier around the oblong rink. Namjoon slowly skates backwards, carrying you the whole way. Your eyes remain glued to your trembling feet, careful not to have the blades deviate too far out to one side or the other.

"Look at you!" he cheers, ever the positive one. "A whole two minutes on your feet."

"Shut up."

You won't deny that your progress surprises even you. Despite having to hold both his hands for the first ten minutes, then eventually one as you skate side-by-side for the following half-hour, you're more adept at skating than you thought you would be.

"You think you can try on your own for a lap?" he inquires.

Giving a hesitant nod, you let go of Namjoon's hand, saying, "Don't leave my side, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Taking a deep breath in, you push one skate out in front of the other and move yourself forward. The other follows after, and you get about twenty feet before you stumble and nearly fall face-first. Luckily, Namjoon keeps his promise and wraps his arms around your waist before you crash.

"Good try!" he exclaims, keeping his arms around your middle even after you regain your balance. "You got pretty far, actually."

You give an awkward chuckle and lay your nervous hands over his at your hip. "Maybe I'm not quite ready for a free-skate yet."

"No worries." He lets his arms drop and retakes your hand to steady you. The dimples appear next to his smile as he adjusts your beanie on your head, which had nearly fallen off in your almost-fall. "But I gotta say, you didn't have to fall for me on Day 1."

"So smooth!" You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a playful shove, only to gasp and reach back for him when he naturally skates backwards at the push. "Nevermind, I take it back. Please don't leave me in the middle of the rink."

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh, nearly doubling over as you cling to him. "You're so cute."

As you skate together, you keep getting the feeling that Namjoon has spent far more time on the ice than you previously assumed. After you get the hang of it yourself and are able to wobble along beside him without a constant hand to hold, he smiles a proud, wide smile.

"See? I knew you could do it!"

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Still nowhere near close to you."

"That's what a lot of people say," he brushes it off.

"Way to brag there, Joon," you snort, then immediately freeze in place so suddenly that you nearly fall over again. "Wait—you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

Namjoon's smile shows his dimples, and they deepen with his reply. "Not a bit." The song changes, playing the symphonic piece "Noel on Ice." Namjoon's face lights up, and he turns back to you with a wink. "Watch me?"

Nodding affirmatively, you release his hand and let him skate towards the center of the rink. His gaze remains on you as he spins to a stop in the middle, then turns his gaze downwards. Arms still at his sides, and his shoulders straighten. You await with bated breath for the next note.

The melody lifts, and Namjoon's arms follow suit. Piano notes drip across the chilled air, and the violin prompts an extension of his hands upwards. Then he moves, gracefully flowing from one movement to the next, as if this has been an ice dance built into his very being. The harp and cello urge him to move faster, spinning like a dancer across their stage.

Namjoon spins into the air, fully coming off the ice. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth out of fear, but he lands it with ease, shifting into his next series of steps like a professional. Flawless and practiced, he's caught the attention of everyone at the rink. As you look around, you see everyone else focused intently on the skater. Some even have their phones out to record. Not just one or two people, either; you see at least a half dozen with their cameras trained on Namjoon.

That in particular has you perplexed. Brows pulling together, you shift your eyes back to Namjoon. The piece is nearing its close, and he's moved back to the center of the ice. Twirling in place, he's moving like a spinning top. Always in a single place, so fast you can barely see, gracefully shaving ice under him so that snowflakes fall around him. He lowers, nearly sitting as he continues to twirl on one foot. The music grows to its crescendo. Slowly, he rises up and extends his hands towards the sky.

And then it hits you.

There's a reason why his face, his voice, and his presence is so familiar to you. You couldn't put your finger on it until just now, but the way he moves on the ice like he's the only one in the room — like it's a second home — brings you back to one of the first days you had in Seoul. That first day, at the Incheon Airport, the man you saw being bombarded with press and fans. Then again on the screens in the lobby of the immigration center. And again a few nights ago on the news.

RM Nam. South Korea's pride and joy, their greatest skater, the man bound for the Winter Olympics until a training injury earlier in the year put him out for the season. You're not into sports, but even you knew him by name and the tragedy that had occurred.

That legendary skater was the one in front of you now. He hadn't mentioned it, and you didn't suspect a thing until today. While definitely a shock, you can't help but be in awe of him even more. He isn't just good on the ice — he's like nothing you've ever seen.

As the music comes to a close, Namjoon skates to a halt. His spin finishes, and he ends with a ending pose bow. Clearly out of breath and shoulders heaving, his gaze shifts to you once again. Your smile widens, and you throw your hands up as you cheer. The others around you begin to clap, but you're by far the most enthusiastic one there.

Suddenly, Namjoon's persona returns to that of a shy and humble one. He bows again in the directions of the viewers, then scurries out from the center and back to you. Eventually, those around you begin to skate once more, ignoring the fact that one of the biggest sports icons in all of Korea is among them.

Namjoon runs a hand over his bleached hair, his smile sweet and his eyes a little nervous as he approaches. You shake your head in awe, letting a surprised laugh slip out.

"Okay, I see exactly what you're doing now. You suggested ice skating because you're Olympic-level! That's totally cheating, by the way."

Namjoon skids to a stop in front of you, as graceful as his takeoff. Without thinking, you reach your hand for his, which he gladly takes. "Figured it out finally, did you?"

"Call me stupid, but I honestly didn't see it until just now." You shove his shoulder with your free hand, only encouraging his teasing reaction. "RM: Guessing that's a stage name?"

He adjusts the beanie over his hair and gives an affirmative gesture. "Yeah, mainly to protect my privacy. Skating world can get pretty intense, sometimes."

You move your chin towards his shoulder, recalling that's where the injury occurred over the summer. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally okay. I go to PT a couple times a week. Mostly healed up, just can't compete for another few months. My coach has made me swear off skating until the New Year, but I figured it was worth throwing a little extra into trying to impress a pretty girl." He tilts his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "Did it work?"

Instead of responding verbally, you curl your finger towards you, a mischievous smile on your face. Namjoon lowers his head and skates closer to you. When he's within arm's reach, you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. A giggle slips out as his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.

"So... Is that a yes?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air and nearly falling over for the hundredth time that night.

Namjoon returns the chaste gesture to your temple as he helps you recover your balance. "Skate with me some more then?" he murmurs, adjusting your scarf around your neck with gentle fingers.

Your face hot and your stomach fluttery, you nod your response and loop your arm around his. "Only if you show me how to do that fancy twirl there at the end."

The idea has Namjoon laughing loudly. "That's my variation on the basic Scratch Spin, which took me about three months to nail perfectly in a routine."

"Then you'd better prepare to be here 'til February!"

After skating for hours, until both of you are exhausted and ready for food, Namjoon takes you to a nearby ramen shop that's close to the train station. It's a hole-in-the-wall, with less than five tables, but with ramen you're able to find a park bench and settle down there with your backs to the city lights and your eyes on the stars overhead. You each mostly in silence, just enjoying each other's company and the delicious food. You make sure to tell your companion how great the choice was, and you insist on coming back again soon.

After wrapping up the meal and seeing the late hour on your phone, Namjoon suggests you both start heading home. "Hate to have to take a bus at this hour instead of the last train," he snickers.

Fully in agreement, you let him take your hand again as the pair of you begin to walk back home. First on the train, then on the sidewalk the short distance to your apartment building.

As you turn the corner onto your short street, your apartment in sight, you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder and sigh happily. "Thank you for today. It was just...magical."

"Christmas magic?"

You nod against his jacket, wistful and content. "Definitely."

Stopping outside your apartment, you turn towards him, not letting go of his hand. Namjoon gives you a content smile as he looks at you, one where his eyes glisten at his coming words. "Then I have a chance."

"At what?"

He reaches yet again for your scarf, moving it from around your lower face so he can cradle it in his hands. "Restoring your hope in the holidays, and your hope in yourself and your choices."

"Ooof, that's getting ahead of it, I think." You bite the inside of your cheek as a small tug of anxiety and sense of being lost pulls at the back of your mind.

But Namjoon is relentless in his pursuit, and for that you're grateful. "That's why I have two more days planned."

"Already?" you laugh.

"You bet!" he exclaims. "In fact, I'll pick you up at nine on Saturday, but don't wear a dress or skirt. Are you free then?"

"For you, absolutely."

His teeth show through his grin, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyebrows. The gesture is gentle and sweet, made even more so by the warmth of his hands on your cheeks through his gloves. Nevertheless, it leaves you breathless.

After a moment of silence, he pulls away and lowers his grasp, but you crave the contact as soon as he relinquishes it. He nods towards your apartment, as if saying, "I'm not leaving until you're home safe."

You take the hint and give a tiny wave as you enter your building. "Have a great night, Joonie," you whisper through the cracked door. "And thanks again."

Namjoon waves back. "Goodnight, [Y/n]. Sleep well."

Saturday can't come quickly enough. You find yourself smiling more often, a joyful feeling in your heart as you go about your work shift and college classes. Even the smallest and insignificant things feel a little easier. The weather wasn't just cold anymore; it was full of beauty and hope and Christmas spirit.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he was helping you turn a corner.

Right before you're ready to head downstairs to meet Namjoon at the entrance, your phone begins to buzz. Lit up on the screen is an international number, but the area code is that of your old home. The butterflies of excitement die almost instantly, shriveling up into tiny balls of anxiety in your stomach.

Even though you ignore the call, you can't resist listening to the voicemail left behind. Putting your phone on speaker, you're shocked to hear your mother's voice wishing you a Merry Christmas, saying that she and the family miss you, and that they wished you would visit so you could clear up everything that went wrong over the summer. Your throat constricts at the sickly sweet tone; her voice always did drip in honey when she wanted something, she she was trying to manipulate her child. Between her conniving control and your father's lack of respect for privacy and personal boundaries, you remember all over again why you left.

You jump as your apartment bell rings, and the small screen by the door shows Namjoon at the entrance. "[Y/n], are you up there? I texted twice...not sure if you got those."

Looking down at your screen, you see that he's right. You have two unread texts from the last five minutes that you missed due to the unexpected caller. Shaking yourself out of it, you shoot him a quick response, close everything out, and head for the ground level.

"There you are!" Namjoon greets with a grin that almost makes you forget your mother's call.

Almost.

Forcing a smile and reply, "Sorry, I don't know why I didn't see your texts."

"No worries." He waves his hand as if to say it's nothing to worry about. "Are you okay? You seem bothered about something."

You glance up at him, unable to deny he looks slightly concerned. You mirror his laissez-faire attitude and brush it off. "Totally good. Heading to the station?"

"Not this time." Namjoon gestures towards the bike parked by the corner of the building. "You ready to go?"

"Both of us, on that? Are you sure that's safe?"

"Oh yeah! Trust me." He kicks the stand down and mounts the bike, patting the extended seat behind him. "I once rode up Namsan Mountain with Seokjin on the back of this thing, and let me tell you, he's a hell of a lot bigger than you."

Knowing he's probably right, you settle yourself on the seat behind him and wrap your arms tightly around his middle. It's probably not the most well-balanced thing in the world, but you trust Namjoon more than you buy into your fear of falling. "No skirts or dresses, huh?"

"Now you get it," he laughs, pulling out onto the bike lane on the street headed into towards the older side of the city. "Unless you'd like a wardrobe malfunction."

He picks up speed and gets to an easy pace down the street. It's fast enough to get to your location speedily but slow enough that you're able to stare at the beautiful buildings and wondrous landscape around you. Even the people have an aura of happiness caused by Christmas. Had it always been this stunning? Or had you been blind to it until just now?

"Seokjin, as in Kim Seokjin, your rival?"

"So you do watch the news," he sighs. "They aren’t portraying us as friends these days, are they?"

You shake your head and rest your chin on his shoulder. "Not really. I didn't know you were friends."

Namjoon shrugs his shoulders slightly, his voice monotone. "Yeah, well, we've known each other since we were seven, got into skating together around that time, and have been friends ever since. While I wish I didn't have to sit this one out, I couldn't be happier to have him representing South Korea at the Worlds — sorry, that's what we call the World Figure Skating Championships."

"Yeah, they're kind of painting you as opposites."

"That's just what the news does, I guess. Gossip and tabloids and fan-wars. I fell on the ice and hit my shoulder pretty hard; it had nothing to do with Seokjin. He and I talked before I left, too. We're on good terms. Most of us from South Korea are friends, actually. We only get represented as enemies because it's a competition. But a lot of times we're on the same flights, in the same hotels, in the same training areas, you get the idea."

Namjoon pulls up to a stoplight at a near empty intersection, waiting silently for it to shift colors. "Is that what you meant by change of career?" you inquire.

"You're observant," he chuckles.

You turn to rest your cheek on his back. "For what it's worth, and keep in mind that I don't know the first thing about figure skating or your injury or anything like that, but as someone on the outside looking in, you're still so talented. Last week, when you were skating alone, I couldn't tell at all you were injured, and you looked like you were really enjoying it. I don't know if that means anything to you coming from a novice, but if you're still in love with skating and want to get back out there, I think you should go for it. You're still spectacular to watch, Joonie."

There's a beat of silence, but then Namjoon glances over his shoulder and winks at you. "Would you come see me perform live if I did?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you state, "Why not?"

He laughs at your silly expression, then begins to move the bike again as the light finally shifts. "That actually means a lot, [Y/n]. Thank you."

The rest of the ride is quiet, at least until you begin to hear the sounds of a bustling outdoor market. Namjoon turns the final corner, and you're elated with the stone street in an older part of Seoul. Vendors in various booths stretch out in every direction. Some sell food or drink, some sell trinkets or clothing, some even sell vintage books or vinyls or movies. Every nook and cranny has something special to offer. The sights, smells and sounds bring an enormous smile to your face as Namjoon steadies the bike to a stop beside the bicycle rack.

You hop off with his help, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement as he parks and locks his bike on the stand. "This is amazing!" Turning to him, you catch him off-guard with a tight embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down to you.

Namjoon seems amused by your eager reaction, and he pulls you closer to him. "I thought you would like it. There's nothing quite like Christmas than a market."

After letting him go, you press a kiss to his cheek as you lower back down to your level. Namjoon's hands tenderly cradle your face, just like last time, only today he's glancing away from  your eyes and down to your lips. As your heartbeat quickens, you pull him back to you, fingers grasping at his winter jacket.

His voice is deep and soft as he asks, "May I...?"

Your cheeks flush as you nod your approval. Namjoon's dimples deepen as he lowers his face to yours, barely brushing his lips against yours in the gentlest kiss you've ever had. You close the distance, tugging at his jacket so he moves closer. He gives a tiny laugh against your mouth, then follows your guidance to deepen the kiss. One hand slips back to your hair; he gently plays with the strands.

A moment later, and you're sighing as he pulls away, both light-headed and light-hearted. Namjoon smiles down at you, gives you a surprising second peck, then pulls back with a chuckle. "You're a really cute kisser, y'know that?"

You drop your head and hide your face in the front of his coat. "Shut up."

Your companion's laughter echoes in the air around you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and places his lips briefly on the top of your head. "Are you hungry? I know where we can get the absolute best Tteok-kkochi."

Eventually you lift your head and nod, feeling your stomach rumble at the thought of rice cake skewers. Namjoon moves his arm from around your shoulders, taking your hand instead, and ushers you into the first aisle of the Christmas market.

If it was magical from the outside, it's even more so from within. Somewhere in the distance, you hear holiday music playing. Not the commercial Christmas songs you're used to, but instrumental music that plays perfectly with the sounds of the market crowds. You're awestruck by every single booth you pass, and Namjoon promises to take you back to all of them after you grab a bite to eat.

Which are well worth the walk into the interior of the market. The Tteok-kkochi are cooked to perfection, drowned in a sauce, and by far the best you've ever had. Even after circling back to the booths you missed on the way, you beg Namjoon to lead you back to get another set.

"I've found heaven," you exclaim dramatically, taking the next two from the cook behind the counter and hanging one to your companion. "I'll never have rice cake skewers this good again."

After paying, you spot a section of the market decorated with lights and colorful orbs, much like the decorations you're used to seeing in the West. "Can we go over there next?"

Namjoon spots where you're pointing and eagerly agrees. The pair of you make your way towards the greenery and decor, amazed at the giant Christmas trees decorated to perfection on the periphery of the market.

"That's a massive tree," he gasps, staring upwards. "Are those normal in America?"

"Maybe at a mall or outside a hotel or something," you reply, equally as taken back. "I've never seen one that big in person in a long time."

As you peruse the Christmas section of the market, slipping from booth to booth as the clock strikes Noon, Namjoon asks, "Have you decorated your apartment at all? I know it can be kinda hard to find stuff in Korea like you're used to."

"Not really," you admit in passing. "Between work and school and, y'know, starting a new life in a foreign country, the holidays kinda fell on the back-burner."

Namjoon taps your shoulder, ushering your attention towards the old, American Christmas movies booth a few spots away. You gasp and rush over with renewed excitement, eyes scanning eagerly over the shelves. They have just about everything, from the classics like "It's A Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" to movies you grew up on like "Home Alone" and "Elf." The more you sort through the outdated DVDs, the bigger your smile gets.

"What's your favorite Christmas movie?" Namjoon asks, casually looking through the Christmas vinyls on the booth next to the movies.

"Without a doubt, Ron Howard's 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas.'"

"The one with Jim Carrey?"

"You know it!"

He laughs. "Yeah, my little sister and I watched it a lot when we were kids."

Your head perks up at the mention of a sister. "I didn't know you had siblings, either."

Namjoon nods. "Yeah, she's in college, too. Studying to be a psychologist."

"She sounds amazing."

"Yeah, the family is very proud. I know I am." He pulls out a vinyl for one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas records. "Do you have siblings?"

At the question, your gaze shifts back to the movies, hands preoccupied with finding the perfect one. "I do. A brother and a sister."

"Older?"

"Yeah..."

"What are they like?"

"A lot like my parents," you sigh, moving on to another shelf, turning your back to your companion. "Which is part of the reason I left, so..."

Namjoon senses your anxiety around the topic and rests a hand on your shoulder as he passes by. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize--"

You cut him off with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no worries, really." Spotting the record under his arm, you ask, "Find one you like?"

While he doesn't seem to buy your act, he lets the conversation go and holds up the vinyl for "Tales of Noel on Ice" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, as performed by the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra.

"You don't already have that one?" you gawk in surprise.

"I don't actually," he admits bashfully. "The title composition is one of my best free skate performances, and I have a record player at home, so why not?" He gestures to the movies. "Did you find one?"

"Oh, I don't need one! I was just looking. I don't even have a DVD player anymore."

"I do, so pick one out and maybe we can watch it sometime."

You shake your head at him, trying to subdue a chuckle. "A record player and a DVD player? You're so odd."

"But to your benefit," he reminds you with a wink, pulling out a single movie nearest him. It happens to be your favorite with Jim Carrey in all his hilarious glory on the front.

Cocking an eyebrow, you give a tiny round of applause at the luck of pulling that film out of all the others. "Well, you're going to have to invite me over sometime then."

"You can count on it."

For the next couple hours, Namjoon and you make your way through the entire market, hitting all the shops that interest and intrigue you. All the while, you talk about a plethora of things and get to know each other letter. For instance, you find out that he was born in Ilsan, not too far from where you are now, and that he hates seafood just about as much as mint chocolate. You also find out that he looks like his mother, who was the one that got him into skating to begin with. And to no one's surprise, Namjoon is actually very funny. Not only is he smart, athletic, and good looking — which alone would have caught your attention — he's got a wicked sense of humor to top it all off.

Likewise, he learns more about you. You tell him about the city you grew up in, the friends you had in high school, what you studied before you came to Korea. You tell him that along with your studies, you're really invested in writing and try to make time for that as well. It hasn't been so easy since the move, but you're hoping to get back to it in the new year.

As you approach mid-afternoon, and the final leg of the market, your phone begins to buzz. Your screen lights up with the same foreign number as before. Instantly, both your feet and your heart stop. Your shoulders tense up, and you turn to a blissfully unaware Namjoon, saying, "Hey, I gotta take this. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" he asks, the person in front of him not the same happy-go-lucky one as before.

You give him a nod of reassurance. "I'll catch up."

Before he can reply, you've turned and moved towards the massive Christmas trees, where there's an opening and the crowds are quieter. Despite what you told him, you don't intend on answering. Whoever is on the other end of that line, be it your mother or father or siblings, you want nothing to do with them. You do, however, want this to be over. You promise yourself to hear the message, block them, and then go run an errand after the holidays to get a new number.

After the call drops, you wait with an anxious feeling building in your stomach. Maybe they didn't leave a message. Maybe it wasn't your family after all. Maybe — 

A soft ping alerts you that you have a new message. Selecting it, you raise your phone to your ear and hear your father this time. He repeats all of what your mother said, only with a layer of frustration and authority that she didn't use. He's borderline cruel as he spouts the same old lies that you're trying to unlearn; it's your fault, it's because of you, you're the cause of it. What it is, depends on the day. This time is has to do with your family not being the same and their world falling to pieces. He uses colorful sentences, well-crafted insults, but all you hear is blame, blame, blame. 

Tears prick your eyes as the voicemail ends, and you realize you should've just deleted the message when you had the chance. A small part of you still hoped they would change, even after all this time, but you see now that it's not possible.

They will never change, and neither will you.

The pit of depression weighs down in your stomach, and loneliness tingles at the back of your throat. Why now? Out of all the times, out of all the days, why are you feeling these things now? You're out having an adventure with a man who you really like, and who you know likes you, in a city you now call home. You're far from any sadness or trauma or family or friends that once brought you down. You've left your past behind. You'd started to feel like there was hope in the holidays and in the future again, like the last year was worth the pain, like everything was starting to turn around.

But suddenly, that snake is wrapped around you again, pulling you back into old habits and old ways of thinking. It's grabbed on tight and is pulling you back into the dark, away from people you care about, away from people who care about you.

Even as you glance up at Namjoon a few stalls away, completely naïve to the painful flickers going through your mind, you feel the need to draw back. Pull away. Stay away. Go back to the security of the known, of the sad, of the lonely. It's warm and comfy, even if it hurts.

Clenching your fists, you try to silence the noise in your brain by shaking your head. The thoughts only grow louder, and the pit in your stomach gets heavier. You haven't felt a depressive episode like this in a long time. You thought they were long gone, especially now, especially with him...

"[Y/n]? Are you okay?"

Looking up, you see Namjoon's approaching you in the clearing. One hand carries the movie and vinyl he purchased for you both, but the other is outstretched towards you. While you don't pull away from his touch, you taste bile in the back of your throat.

"I—I need to go home," you mutter. "I'm starting to feel sick."

"Oh, okay, hold up I'll go get my bike and I'll take you home."

Feeling your breath quicken, you pull your gaze from Namjoon and nod shakily. The walk back to the bike rack is silent, even the crowd outside fades to a low background murmur. Namjoon places the purchased items in his bicycle carrier, then mounts it.

You follow suit, regret beginning to pile up inside you. Running isn't going to help anything, and you know he must be hurt and confused. But to you, the only thing you can do right now to protect yourself is get away from it all and go back to the place where you feel safest.

Tears burn your eyes as you curl up against him. Namjoon pedals speedily to your apartment, making the trip faster than last time. When he pulls up to the curb, you hop off without a word.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" he offers, worry causing his brows to pull together.

You shake your head and put distance between you both. "No, I'm fine. I'll...text you later, okay?"

Without another word, you turn and enter through the front, leaving Namjoon behind on the other side. Trekking up the stairs, through the door, past a mewling Mochi, you curl up on your bed and let yourself finally feel all the sadness piled up inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the waterworks flow when your phone lights up from an incoming text. Knowing exactly who it is, you grab it and text a swift message to Namjoon.

"I'm so sorry I left so suddenly. And that I ruined our day. Not feeling like myself."

"That's okay. I just got home, so I wanted to check up on you. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Do you need anything?"

"No, but thank you."

"Okay... Maybe we can try again some other time? I'd hate to let you down on Day 2."

Unable to reply, the phone turns black and you let it fall onto the duvet.

The days leading up until Christmas Eve were long and full of guilt. You closed the café for the final time the Monday before the holiday, and with no classes to attend, you mainly stayed inside and watched the snow fall outside your tiny apartment window. Mochi kept you company, but even the small fur ball could sense that something had changed for the worse. Even she had gotten used to you being happier this December; you'd taken two steps back while attempting to take a single step forward.

Every morning, you'd spot Namjoon riding his bike past your apartment on his way to the rink where he trains. Every day, he'd stop and gaze up at the building, never sure which frosty window you were behind but melancholy just the same. He'd call and text; the former, you would never answer, but the latter, you did sporadically. Mainly at night when you thought he wouldn't be up.

He usually was.

"Was it something I did?" he asked that Tuesday before Christmas. "Did I move too fast? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No. It's not you."

"Then tell me what it is. I don't want to come across as pushy, but I thought we were getting closer...and then you pull back and hide from me. From everyone. I know I don't know everything about your past or what happened before you came to Seoul, but I promised you three adventures. I still have one to make good on before Christmas."

"Joonie..."

You couldn't bring yourself to write more. The tiny part of your brain that told you that maybe this can work, maybe it's worth trying, maybe things can be different now, it was silenced by the overwhelming majority of your mind. It remembered everything from your past, from the hurt and pain, from the loneliness and fear. Despite your wish to make things right again, it was drowned out by the pure terror of being wronged again.

"Don't shut me out. Please. Let me show you things can be different now. You don't have to go at this alone, [Y/n]. Not anymore."

Pushing down the urge to cry yet again, you move your fingers to type a swift and cold reply. "I'm so sorry I wasted your time, Namjoon. I really am. I thought I was ready, but it's clear that I'm not. Please, spend Christmas with your family. Don't waste any more time on me."

And that was the end of it. You muted his notifications, ignored his calls and texts, and eventually he went silent. The day before Christmas Eve was the first you didn't hear from him, and it was the first day you felt like you'd truly fucked things up for good.

On Christmas Eve, you got an unexpected call from Lisa. Deciding to take a break from staring at an empty Word document with ever-growing frustration, you answered the call, only to be bombarded by Lisa's rambling.

"Oh, thank god! I didn't think you'd answer! I need a huge favor, and I hate to bother on such short notice on Christmas Eve, but this really cannot wait and I'll love you forever if you—!"

"—Okay, okay," you chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

"I need you to run back to the café and grab something for me. Jungkook is on his way there, but he doesn't have a key."

"What could you possibly have left that's this important?"

"My fucking credit card."

"You've been out of town for two weeks and only just now realized you left your card?"

She heaves a frustrated sigh. "Please, just, do me this favor?"

Rolling your eyes, you pull yourself from the sofa and grab your keys on the counter. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Yes, yes, I know."

You leave the apartment in a hurry, taking the next train to the café. In less than fifteen minutes, you're at the front door. Lisa assures you that Jungkook is on his way, only twenty minutes away. After unlocking it, you make yourself at home in the lobby with a fresh white chocolate mocha. It reminds you of Yeongu, and you smile at the thought.

After about a half hour, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Lisa's text has you halting in place.

"I'm sorry to do this. You didn't really give me another choice. I crossed a line, but I think you'll thank me in the end."

Your fingers are swift typing a response. "What did you do?"

"You remember how you gave me a spare key in case you ever got locked out? Or in case you were kept at school too long and needed someone to feed Mochi?" A pause, then she adds, "He came to Busan, [Y/n]. He asked me in person what to do. Do you know how out of the way that was for him? Give him another chance. Please."

"You didn't."

"I did. I'm sorry, but you've talked about how you pull away when you get close to people. It's gone on for almost a week. It's Christmas Eve. You can hate me all you want later, but please. Go home, kiss and make up, then try to salvage Christmas."

A huff of air exits your nostrils as it hits you. Lisa's given the spare to Namjoon. Jungkook was never on his way; this was all a rouse to get you out of your apartment long enough for him to get inside. But to what end?

"He's good for you; I can tell that much already. If you ever were to give someone the benefit of the doubt and place your broken pieces in someone's hands, he's the best you're gonna find."

A pang of truth rocks through you, and while you have still a semblance of willpower, you shoot her a swift text and rush back for the station. "I'm still mad at you, but we'll talk later. I need to get home."

"Go get him!"

The series of stairs up to your apartment never felt so long. Out of breath and winded from rushing home, you find the door unlocked. Pushing through, the place you left less than an hour ago isn't the same as it was before.

The entrance hallway is glittering, multi-colored strands of twinkle lights hanging along the periphery. Fake snow lines the trim, and paper snowflakes are tossed across the furniture. Each one is unique and hand-crafted.

As you venture further, a rainbow array aurora covers your living room and kitchen. There must be at least a dozen lengthy strands of Christmas lights hung across the few items you've unpacked, circled around the sealed boxes, and framing every window and door.  Fake icicles hang on the windowsill, fake greenery lays where curtains should be, and a small Christmas tree stands at your height in the corner.

Jovial, English holiday music plays softly in the background. And humming along to the tune of The First Noel, Namjoon stands with bent-back facing you. He's finishing his final touches on the tree, ensuring that each sparkling orb and shimmering tinsel is perfect. He adjusts the star on the top with a smile to himself, oblivious still to your entrance.

For a moment, you stand in silence and watch him. Your heart is heavy but still beating. If anything, seeing him in the midst of such a sweet and selfless act makes it flutter. Even after cutting his well-planned adventure short, ignoring him for over a week, and telling him to stop speaking to you, he's still here. He came back, and he's trying to prove to you the truth he's been spouting all along.

Eventually, you blink out of your stupor and clear your throat to alert him to your presence. Namjoon turns on his heel, elbow grazing the tree just enough to send it toppling backward. He curses and lunges for it, grabbing it by the star just in time to keep it upright. His characteristic clumsiness prompts a snicker from you, one that you attempt to hide with your hand over your mouth.

Namjoon adjusts the tree and turns back to you with a bashful expression. His lips pull into a side-smile, a single dimple popping out in the process. "H—Hi..."

"Hi," you repeat back to him, letting your hand fall. Your eyes follow suit and drift to your damp, snow-covered shoes.

A beat of silence passes where neither of you knows what to say next. Then the both of you break it at once, words tumbling over each others several times in a row. You laugh to yourself and look back up at him; Namjoon smiles down at you, shaking his head at the awkward reunion.

He gestures silently to you. "Go ahead."

You clear your throat, then say, "I...I wanted to say that I owe you an apology."

He shakes his head firmly, extending his hands in a olive-branch manner. "No, you don't—"

Your feet move back, putting space between you both. "—Can I explain and finish, please? Just...hold your forgiveness until then." At your request, your companion falls silent, letting his hands fall respectfully at his side. Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, you re-calibrate your mind and prepare for your admission.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet," you begin softly. "Ah, shit — That came out super mean. I mean, you know a lot about me. You kinda know why I moved to Korea, the situation with my family back in America, that whole thing. You know where I work and what I'm studying. You know my favorite drink of all time is a white chocolate mocha, and that my favorite customer is barely four feet tall. You know Lisa is my shield at work, and that we've become pretty close in less than a year. You know I'm a homebody and that my favorite thing to do by myself is play with Mochi and watch dramas."

You release a huff of air and raise your eyes to meet his, a wistful smile tugging the corners of your lips. "But there's a lot I haven't told you — or anyone for that matter. I've gone through...a lot of shit this year. When I moved to Seoul, my mental health was in the trash, and my self worth was in shambles. I'd just been shoved from everything I'd ever known into a foreign place."

When you pause for a moment, Namjoon's small and steady voice pipes up with a single inquiry. "I thought you left willingly?"

"I did," you state. "I've wanted to move to South Korea for a long, long time. Since I can remember. But I never thought I'd lose everything before then." Tears prick your eyes, and you lift your sleeve to wipe your nose. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Namjoon gestures towards the small sofa, and you follow his lead. You perch on a single cushion, legs folded underneath you. He takes the adjacent one, far enough to for personal space but still close enough to rest a hand on your knee. This time, you don't push him away as you catch your breath. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I do, but maybe not now." You take another breath in and focus your thoughts. "I didn't mean to start all that with the intention of being the victim and making you feel bad for me. I...I told you that because I wanted you to know that there are reasons why I push people away. I've been on a journey to heal that trauma all year, but it doesn't happen overnight. But even with that, I never should have just left like that. I never should have ignored your calls and texts. I shouldn't have made you feel like you were the bad guy, or that any of this was your fault, or that you did anything wrong. You were—"

You struggle to find a word that fits what you're truly feeling, one that doesn't feel overwhelming, but the only one that comes to mind is... "You are perfect, Joonie. You're sweet and kind. You treat me like a normal person that's worth something, and I think part of me was scared of that. Especially around the holidays, I feel very fragile, and I run from things I think might hurt me."

"I would never, ever hurt you." Namjoon flashes a soft and empathetic smile. "Can I ask why you got spooked so suddenly? You looked off when I picked you up, and I know you said it was nothing, but..."

You pull your phone from your pocket and play the message for him, the one from your mother. And when he remains silent, you play the second from your father. While he listens, you watch him. The hand on your knee turns to a fist, and his jaw clenches. Part of you is relieved that someone else is reacting negatively to the messages, yet another signal to you that your choice is validated.

"I got the first that morning, but the second right before I left," you murmur. "I didn't respond, and I've blocked the numbers, but I've felt unstable since then. That's why I shut down, and why I left."

He nods, then turns off the phone. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. That's emotional abuse and manipulation. No one should have to go through that."

"I know, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for doing that and for hurting you. It was wrong, and I don't deserve you coming back again and again...even if you concocted this up with Lisa."

At your light-hearted comment, he chuckles and bites the inside of his cheek. The fist on your knee loosens back, his fingers tapping gently against your skin. "She told you, did she?"

"Yep," you chirp. "I'll thank her later."

After a moment, Namjoon's eyes flicker back up to yours. For a moment, he almost looks worried. "Are you mad?"

"Meh." For a moment, you're able to hold your composure long enough for your companion's eyes to widen in horror. "I'm just kidding," you relent, and Namjoon looks visibly relieved. "How could I be mad? Look at all this!" You gesture to the magical space around you. "It looks like a wonderland in here."

A crimson hue fills his face, and he's all of a sudden very shy about the accomplishment. "I wanted you to feel like you had a Christmas, even if it was just for one night."

Leaning your head against the back cushion of the sofa, you stare at him with a bittersweet smile on your face. "Are you mad at me?"

He shakes his head, expression more adamant about that than anything he's said so far. "Not a bit. I was worried, yes, and maybe a little disappointed. I think most of that was tied to the fact that I thought we were on the up-and-up. I saw you slowly opening up and having a good time."

"Gahhh," you groan, eyes fluttering shut with frustration at your past self. "I really fucked it up, didn't I?"

"Not really." His hand slips up your knee, and he weaves his fingers through yours. The squeeze he gives and the gaze he locks gives emphasis to his next words. "I know I don't know everything about you, just like you don't know everything about me, but I'd be lying if I said you aren't the most joyful thing I've experienced in a while. Being around you makes me happy, and the fact that this has you so down makes me want to be there for you — if you want me to. I don't blame you for anything you've done, so you have nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, after hearing those messages and some of what you've been dealing with this year, I know I would've reacted the same way. But, if it helps your peace of mind, then I forgive it all."

"Thank you," you whisper, trying to blink away the tears pricking your eyes.

Namjoon's gaze softens, and he tugs on your hand. "C'mere." You scoot closer, and he pulls you the rest of the way onto his lap and into his arms. Your legs dangle off the side of his thighs, and your head nestles in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. One hand holds tightly to yours while the other circles your waist, dipping under your sweater to rub soothing circles on your skin. Your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him even closer than before.

"Sometimes terrible, inexplicable things happen to us and it takes us months — even years — to process." Namjoon's timbre is quiet and deep, rumbling against your ear as he speaks. "Everyone goes through that, even me. But it's so much harder to face it alone. Sometimes it takes a lonely, awful Christmas to see just how out of sorts you are. I don't know everything, but if you'll have me, I'd like to stick around to find out."

"You'd still be willing to get to know me more, even after seeing me at my worst?"

"Jagi, if this is your worst, then I would hate to introduce you to sixteen-year-old Kim Namjoon. That boy was a train-wreck."

Letting a watery smile show as laughter escapes your lungs, you reach upward and wrap your arms around Namjoon's neck. He pulls you closer, hands splayed on your back and waist. A sense of relief, and something like home, floods through you. Burying your face in his neck, you allow yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. Ever patient, your companion just holds you close as you come back around.

"Enough with the heavy," he breaks the silence, pulling back and wiping his thumb across your cheeks. Nodding towards the front of the space, where your television is, you follow his line of sight. "I brought your movie and the player. If you're okay with me staying over, do you wanna watch it?"

Leaning forward, you bring your face closer to his, murmuring, "I'd love that."

Namjoon closes the final distance. Both your eyes and his flutter shut as your lips meet in the middle. You tug on the collar of his sweater, encouraging him closer as his arms tighten around your waist. In a burst of bravery, you run your hand through his platinum hair and nip at his bottom lip. He inhales abruptly, and you giggle in response.

"You're gonna be the death of me, [Y/n] [Y/l/n]," he laughs, eventually pulling back to catch his breath.

You grin mischievously at him, biting your lower lip. "Still sure you wanna stay?"

"Definitely. Oh! And I placed an order for takeout, which should be here any minute."

You burst into laughter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as joy fills your body. "You really put all your chips on me coming to my senses, didn't you?" When he shrugs, you add, "What if I had said no?"

"Then I would've been eating for two alone in my apartment," he groans.

You shake your head at his antics and playfully poke the dimple in his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

His smile deepens at your words and gesture. “Merry Christmas, [Y/n].”

Just as he promised, food arrives at the front of your apartment a few minutes later. Namjoon hops up and volunteers to get it from the entrance, and you pop the movie into the player. Silencing the music on his phone, you select the "Play" option from the menu, and the credits begin to play over Anthony Hopkins' narration as your companion returns.

He serves up the food and delivers it to you on the sofa. With a rumbling stomach, you take it gratefully. Just as the singing begins, Namjoon settles into the seat beside you, hooking your leg over his so you maintain closeness as you devour the takeout. Neither of you have seen it in so long, and thus both of you are laughing whole-heartedly at every joke and hilarious mannerism.

After the meal is finished and the dishes are on the makeshift box side-table, you find yourself slowly slipping closer to your companion. Namjoon gladly pulls you closer, and by the middle of the movie, you're back in his lap. With the blanket wrapped around you both, his chin on your head, his arms around you with one hand tracing absent-minded patterns on the skin above your pants, you know you've never been more at home in Seoul than you are right now.

"I'm sorry I ruined your grand plans for Day 3," you murmur after a while.

Namjoon's hand on your waist halts, then changes to a reassuring, tapping pattern. "Be glad you did; this is way better than anything I had planned."

"While I have to agree, what did you have planned?"

You can hear his smile in his voice. "Well, honestly I hadn't decided between Lotte World or Seoullo 7017. You said you hadn't been to either of those, and at Christmas, they're magical. All the lights, the music, it's an absolute winter wonderland."

"Well, if I get to see you skate live, then we can definitely go to those after the solar New Year. Maybe...Maybe even call it a date?"

Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, one that makes you grin to yourself and sigh peacefully. His reply is loud and clear, a promise reverberating through his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."

As the movie continues, you relax and think back on everything that's happened this year. All your concerns and worries you had a few weeks prior, at the beginning of December, they all seem so far away now. Even those anxieties brought up recently feel as if they're resolved. he sense is comparable to that of a chapter ending and a new one is being written. And this time, you're the one holding the pen.

At the resolution of the film, you realize that what Namjoon set out to do over a series of adventures truly did come to fruition. Be it luck or fate or whatever you want to call it, he really has given you that spark of hope in the Christmas season. It's something you thought you'd lost, or perhaps you'd left it in America along with many other things. He's brought it back to life, and so much more along with it.

All that magic, all that wonder, all that love and hope and joy — Namjoon is right. It hasn't disappeared from the world, and you haven't outgrown the things you used to feel during the holiday season. It's all still right here, in front of you and around you, waiting to be taken with grateful hands and heart. Maybe it's not in the form it used to be, nor is it in the place it used to be, but neither are you. Both you and your home have changed this year. But despite it all, you are still here, still striving to love yourself and your new life, still trying to let the magic find you.

And this year, because of a wonderful person named Kim Namjoon, you had all the love and magic you could ever need.

#bangtan-madi writes #christmas collab #bts christmas collab #bts christmas fic #christmas oneshot #christmas fic #holiday fic #holiday oneshot #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon #kim namjoon #rm #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #strangers to lovers #bts x reader #kim namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshot #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic #rm fic #rm oneshot #kpop #figure skater au #figure skater!namjoon #cafe au #barista!mc

[ithebookhoarder]

Your sleepy head canons for the SW trio were adorable! Can I pretty please ask what the original star wars babies would be like with a sick reader? I just need some cuteness in my life right now and I'm rewatching the movies so yeah...

A/N: Um, yes you can! One fluffy dose of OG star wars coming up. 

Star Wars (Head-canons): Dealing with a sick reader

Masterlist:

Han:

This man is a marshmallow on the inside, even if years alone in the smuggling game has ensured that it’s deeply hidden away beneath that stoicism and devil-may-care attitude. 

You are one of the only people in the entire galaxy he lets see his softer side, whether it’s his casual affection during the day on the Falcon, or his little thoughtful gestures like fetching you caff when you’re flying or working your ass off on repairs. 

It’s why he’s actually rather sweet to you when you’re sick, ordering Chewie to take over whatever you were meant to be doing so you can get some rest.

“Han. I’m fine. It’s just a sniffle. I’ll live.”

“I know that, princess, but I don’t need you breaking my ship because you’re too busy coughing and sneezing to see what wires you’re tinkering with.”

You laugh, knowing his sass is his way of hiding the worry that’s brewing inside of him at the sight of you coughing and spluttering around the place. So, you surrender your tools to him and allow him to help you back to your quarters. It’s that or letting him drag you there over his shoulder, like some kind of deranged caveman. 

Once you get to your room, you half expect him to leave you there to fend for yourself, but you’re surprised to see him hovering around you, already working out a list of supplies. 

“You should lie down. I’ll grab ya some of that fancy tea you like so damn much.”

“Thanks, hon.”

“Do you need anything else? What about some more blankets? Some pillows? I can grab Chewie’s. He doesn’t need it-“

Who knew Han Solo could be such a secret mother hen?

Turns out, with all his travels, he knows a thing or two about fending off a cold. It’s actually rather cute. 

You’re too busy trying not to laugh to say no as he hurries about the place and effectively builds you a nest in your shared quarters. He’s also glued to your side, leaving his Wookie first mate in charge while he sees to your every need, even if it’s just holding you while you sleep off whatever it is that’s taken you down.  

“I told you you needed a better coat on that planet but nooo your stubborn ass said you didn’t need one.”

“Han. Stop. I didn’t catch this cold there.”

“Where else would you have caught it?”

“Things just happen. It’s ok.”

Han definitely doesn’t think it’s ok, but he doesn’t want to tire you out for arguing over something dumb. You’re just as stubborn as he is and arguments between you two have been known to go on for days sometimes. 

Instead, he agrees to disagree for now. As long as you rest and get better then everything else doesn’t matter. 

However, the next time you plan to leave the ship he just so happens to be waiting by the ramp, a thick, chunky coat in his hand. And a hat. And gloves. 

He grins and presses a kiss to your frowning face as you waddle out, almost suffocating but willing to endure for his sake and as a thank you for all his care the past week.

You also make a mental note to repay the favour next time he gets a little under the weather. You’re sure Chewie would enjoy the sight of his captain haggling with clients, while swaddled in knitwear. 

Luke:

Coming from a desert planet, Luke doesn’t know too much about handling things like colds. He’s more used to handling dehydration, sunburn, malnutrition or even the odd blaster wound or two from Jawas.

However, once joining the Rebellion, he learns pretty quickly after being struck down with surprising regularity. He’s an old friend to  colds and other conditions common on other planets and in space. 

That’s actually how he meets you, always being ordered to stop by the Med Bay by Leia the minute he starts sneezing. 

“I don’t need you spreading the plague, Luke,” she sighs, ushering him over to you and ordering him to let you take care of him. “You may be some mighty Jedi but even Jedis get sick.” 

You actually enjoy getting to spend time with Luke when he’s sick, and sharing your knowledge about cures and ways to avoid catching diseases in the first place. Luke also enjoys listening to you, admiring how clever you are and how kind, and careful, you are when handling patients. 

Thus, when you eventually get sick, he’s only too eager to return the favour. It’s time for him to take care of you, even if he knows you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, Y/N. Let me help you. Please?”

You smile, agreeing as he takes up residence at your bedside for the next few days. Turns out, he actually has a tender bedside manner, and is incredibly good at keeping you distracted when you get fed up of being on bedrest. 

He’s also incredibly aware of changes in mood or your condition, sensing them through the force before you even do. Hence why he’s by your side the moment you take a bad turn, despite him being half way across the base for training.

If he’s out of breath then that’s just a coincidence cause nooooo, he didn’t run here. No. He was right outside and just so happened to be coming in when you needed him most. 

“Luke? What the-?”

“Here. I brought soup and some more pain killers from the med bay.” 

You take his offerings, grinning in delight as the smell of food hits your nose. “Hmm, my saviour.”

His smile is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen as is his blushing cheeks. “I’m just taking care of you. Who else is going to nurse me back to health next time I’m the one who’s sick?”

“Anything for my favourite farm-boy.” 

“Your farm-boy.”

His kiss as he settles in bed beside you is almost enough to make you feel better all on its own. 

Leia:

Like mother, like daughter, this woman is a public servant. She may also be a workaholic, but she has her priorities in order and you come before whatever meetings or plans she has for the day.

In fact, the first time you got sick and didn’t tell her, she was hurt. It was C3-PO that had outed you, saying something about you being in your rooms and unable to join in the meeting scheduled that morning when asked where you were. (You knew you shouldn’t have trusted that golden tin can) 

Leia had been on you in seconds, bursting in your room and yelling at you for a whole hour about how stupid it was to suffer in silence. 

“We have medical staff, Y/N, for this exact reason! You’d rather lie here in pain, suffering, when you could have called someone? Or even me? Don’t tell me you’ve been around Han too much, Maker knows I don’t need two stubborn idiots on this base.”

“I love you too, Your Majesty.”

“Shut up or I’ll tell threepio to come and watch you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” 

She would dare, but you were more than happy to put up with the lecture, however, given that she was busy wiping at your brow and tucking you in whilst yelling. That, and you had enough of a headache without threepio making worse. 

It felt rather surreal to think you had royalty waiting on you hand and foot - even if Leia would have yelled again if you said that to her face. She loved you more than anything and made sure to tell you at least once a day. She wasn’t just a princess, she was your partner and that was all that mattered. 

Needless to say, you’d learnt your lesson; whenever you got sick again, you made sure to let Leia know you weren’t feeling great. 

That way she could make sure to keep an eye on you, or assign someone to do so when she was dragged from your side for some super urgent meeting she couldn’t avoid any longer. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Leia. Go. You’re needed. I can survive an hour or so without you, but we all know this base won’t if you don’t get your ass over to mission control.” 

“You have a good point.” 

You chuckle as she steals a kiss before hurrying off to her duties. By the time you wake up from your nap, she’s back again and curled up next to you, watching you out of the corner of her eye whilst she works on the pad in her lap. 

She also sings you little lullabies when you’re sick and can’t sleep. They’re all songs her parents sang to her whenever she got sick as a kid. That alone makes you feel better, sharing something so private with her. 

Long story short, you may hate being sick, but you don’t hate being sick with Leia around to love and care for you. 

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #princess leia x reader #leia x reader #leia organa #luke skywalker x reader #Luke Skywalker #han solo x reader #Han Solo #masterlist #ithebookhoarder #request #prompt #answered #EPIV #star wars x reader #han x reader

[dontcare77ghj]

Strength

Tony x reader x Natasha x Bucky

Next part of heart will be out in the next week.

The four of you were the strongest of the avengers. The strength the four of you possessed was something you had worked on for years.

Natasha had crafted her strength during her many years in the red room. It was easier to be what they wanted if she built up a hard shell, built up another persona, for when they were around. It had taken her years to show another person the real Natasha and even now, only a few people were allowed to know the real her.

Tony’s strength had come from years of being neglected and mental health issues. In a similar play to Natasha, Tony had built up a persona for the media. He had become a carefree playboy and this personality still shone through to this day when he felt threatened. 

Bucky had been born in a much harsher time than the rest of you and was then forced to endure seventy years at the hands of HYDRA. His strength was born from a place of survival, to survive and to continue surviving Bucky had to be strong.

You somewhat understood what Bucky went through at the hands of HYDRA. You yourself had lived through years of torture at their hands as they attempted to create the experiments, they’d previously performed on the Maximoff twins. You had to become strong to keep yourself. To keep your mind and self in control.

The four of you were the strongest of the Avengers. It was because of your shared strength that no-one was surprised when the four of you announced you were all together. But everyone’s strength could bend, even the strongest could have moments of weakness.

Any enhanced, whether they had been born with it or had had their genes mutated, would agree emotions could be tricky. Your mood and the emotions you felt could become the deciding factor as to whether or not you would remain in control of your abilities.

You hadn’t been born with your abilities; they had been the result of experimentation at the hands of HYDRA. At first you hated it. You hated the fact you weren’t normal anymore, but over time you grew to love the powers you’d gained and turned your anger towards HYDRA.

It was because of your anger towards the organisation you’d joined the Avengers. A team with people who’d seen similar things to you. People who’d lived through similar experiences. Here, you were normal.

Until you lost control. That was when you lost any sense of normalcy. When you lost control, you lost control. When you had the ability to manipulate and control the weather, and you lost control all hell could rain down.

The four of you and Wanda who had been assigned this mission and despite the shitty conditions and the complete lack of sleep, it had been going fine. It had all been going well until HYDRA had caught wind of where you were camping out.

“I fucking hate these assholes.” Natasha swore as she fired another clip at the agents.

“I don’t think anyone particularly enjoys being around these people, Nat.” Tony said, blasting at the incoming swarm. 

“They should just do the courteous thing and die.” You grunted, creating a mini tornedo and throwing dozens of them as far as you could.

It didn’t seem to matter how well the five of you were doing, the hoardes of HYDRA agents seemed to be never ending. 

“I really don’t like these men.” Wanda grunted, levitating a large mass of agents and hurling them far away.

“No one does.” Bucky smiled as the five of you met up. “We need to pack up and get out of here.” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around you. “More’ll be back soon.”

“Let’s get out of here. We got what we needed.” Tony agreed. The five of you made your way back to the set-up camp and quickly began to pack up the equipment. “Damn it I can’t find my tablet.” Tony cursed.

“You left it in the tent, hon.” You told him. “I’ll grab it for you.” 

“Thanks, darling.” Tony kissed your cheek before you made your way back to the large tent. You’d only just entered the tent when you let out a loud scream. A rouge agent had hidden in your tent and stabbed his knife into your thigh and dragged.

“Y/N!” Natasha yelled, rushing her way over to you as you stumbled out of the tent, holding your hand to your gushing wound.

Natasha made quick work of the man as Bucky and Tony knelt beside you. Wanda was already on the radio alerting them to the situation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Tony muttered as he attempted to stop the bleeding. 

“Tony you’re not helping.” Natasha snapped, breaking out the medical kit as Bucky knelt behind you.

“I can see her bone, Nat. I can see the fucking bone.” Tony said, pressing his hands tighter to the bleeding wound.

“Oh God, I’m going to be sick.” You gagged after catching a glimpse of the wound. Tears began to sting the corners of your eyes.

“No, no you're just fine. It’s not that bad.” Bucky soothed you as the wind began to whip around you violently. 

“I don’t feel so good.” You groaned. A whimper left your throat as Natasha began disinfecting the area.  

“You’re fine. Don’t say that it’s fine.” Tony said loudly over the wind which was beginning to grow louder and louder with every minute. You couldn’t see past the tears the glazed over your eyes.

“Y/N, you need to calm down.” Natasha told you without looking up from her work. “You need to stay in control.”

“I can’t. Oh God it hurts.” You whimpered, still looking at the gushing wound. The wind was now screaming as it violently roared to life as tears slid down your cheeks.

“No, no, no.” Bucky said, lifting your chin. “Don’t look at it. Look at me. You need to stay in control, honey. We can’t help you if we're dealing with a tornado.”

“I can’t, I can’t control it.” You cried.

“Y/N, look at me.” Tony said, moving next to your head. He gripped your hand tightly as you gasped at the feeling of Natasha stitching the wound. “You can do this. You need to breath with me.” He said, putting your hand on his chest.

You gave Tony a nod and attempted to do as he said. Tony’s heartbeat was slightly faster than normal but was still much calmer than your erratic pulse. The whipping wind died down as you clutched his hand.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well, kisa.” Natasha said soothingly. Natasha quickly wrapped the wound tightly and leaned up to kiss your tears away. “That should hold until someone gets down here.”

“Fury said the team will be here soon.” Wanda said, walking over. “I’ll finish packing up.” 

“Thank you, Wanda.” Bucky said. “You’re okay sweetheart. You did so well.”

“So, so well.” Tony agreed, squeezing you hand. “You’re so strong.”

“Just close your eyes kisa. We’ll protect you for now.” Natasha murmured, brushing hair off your sweaty face.

“I love you. I love you all.” You mumbled as your eyes began to close. 

“We love you too, sweet cheeks.” Tony said, squeezing your hand once more.

Non-reader POV

It had been a quiet day. Well, a quiet day for the inhabitants of the tower at least. There were no explosions coming from Tony’s lab, no building shaking roars from Bruce or yells of annoyance directed at a pranking Clint.

And that day had progressed into a tranquil, quiet, night. A night that for once the four of you had spent together. The four of you had spent a lovely evening together, sharing more than one bottle of red wine, before retreating into the bedroom.

After a couple hours of doing some recreational activities together, the four of you had drifted off to sleep in a tangled pile. An hour later it became clear to Bucky, it was not going to be a peaceful sleep.

Bucky’s dreams echoed with the sounds of gunshots, screams in English and Russian and orders constantly barked at him before pain would ghost through his body.

Bucky let out a distressed noise as he shifted away from his sleeping partners as his dreams took a turn from memory to nightmare.

“Do it.” The voice hissed into his ear.

“Bucky don’t do this!”

“James it’s us! You can fight this!”

“Tin man, you’re not this person anymore!”

I don’t want to do this.

But I have to. Without another thought Bucky raised his gun and with three quick shots he shot each person between the eyes. As the ringing in his ears dulled he suddenly became aware he was in control.

Bucky dropped the gun in his hands and stared at the blood soaking the skin of his hands. Bucky continued to stare at his red stained hands until he saw the blood that was now soaking through his shoes.

His eyes followed the trail of blood until he saw the gruesome sight that sat before him. Two women and a man sat before him, their heads slumped onto their chests and blood pooling around them in a terrifying shade of crimson.

Bucky was compelled to move toward them, needing to know the identities of his three newest victims. He gently grasped the neck of the closest woman to him to revel the face of his Natasha. Her eyes were still opened widely, a bullet hole now featured in the centre of her forehead. 

Quickly Bucky checked his two other victims and collapsed to his knees as he saw his other partners with matching bullet wounds.

He’d done this. He’d killed them. 

Bucky awoke with a loud, distraught, scream which woke all three of his partners. All three began searching the room for the cause of Bucky’s distress and when they saw no threat they turned to see him struggling to breath.

“Bucky, look at me honey.” Y/N said, holding her hands in front of him. Bucky didn’t handle being touched well when he was like this. “You’re safe here with us.”

“It wasn’t real, James.” Natasha tacked on, mirroring your body language. “It was a nightmare.”

“That’s all it was.” Tony agreed. “Come back to us.” The three continued attempting to calm the man without being able to touch him.

It took what felt hours before Bucky able to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Bucky finally said, dropping his head in his hands.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Tony said, moving closer to him and wrapping an arm around him.

“Absolutely nothing.” Y/N nodded, sliding into Tony’s side.

“You’ve been doing so well, you came out of it much faster this time.” Natasha complimented him, curling into his other side.

“I’m supposed to be stronger than this.” Bucky mumbled quietly, removing his hands from his face. “I’m a soldier.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day, Buck” Y/N said, taking one of his hands. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“That’s why we're here.” Tony told him.

“To be strong for you.” Natasha agreed. There weren’t any more words exchanged as the three of you continued to silently comfort Bucky with your presence. You didn’t need words to comfort each other.

Reader POV

Natasha had worked really hard to wipe out the red in her ledger. In her mind she had done too much to ever fully clear the darkness of her past and the red out of her ledger. Her main motivation for joining the Avengers was to help others, to help enough people that she could clear at least a third of her ledger.

But Natasha was a do-er. When it came to missions, Natasha would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of the team, her partners and to make sure the mission was successfully completed. Natasha knew what it felt like to have the blood of innocents on her hands and she didn’t want any of her team to have to go through that.

On missions the rule was, capture and don’t kill but sometimes it was just unavoidable. On these missions you had to kill to survive and it was Natasha, Bucky and Clint that took it upon themselves to protect their team. Their lives and their consciences. 

Natasha had been on a mission with Steve and Wanda when it happened. Steve said they weren’t sure who blew the building, but someone did and Natasha believed it was her fault for the deaths of the civilians. 

In retaliation, Natasha seemed to have been taken over by something as she made quick work of the Hydra agents around them. Steve and Wanda had barely been able to recover from the shock of watching the building collapse before Natasha had killed them all.

That call had been twelve hours ago. Five hours after that, they had arrived home. It was now eight hours later and the three of you had not seen her since she’d arrived home. Natasha had come straight back up to your floor and locked herself in the bathroom as per her custom after a bad mission.

“Nat?” You knocked softly. “Bucky made dinner for when you’re ready. I'll leave it in the oven for you.” You said when she didn’t reply but you didn’t leave. “We love you Nat. Just so you know.” You added going to walk away when you heard the click of the lock.

Taking that as a sign, you opened the door to see her sitting on the floor, still in her uniform and fiddling with a dagger. You didn’t say anything as you took a seat next to her.

You counted out five minutes before she shifted closer and stole your hand. You counted another five minutes before she rested her head on your shoulder and you gently began to run your fingers through her hair.

“How can you even stand to be this close to me?”

“Because I love you.” You said, scratching her scalp lightly. “We all love you.”

“Why would you do that? How can you love these blood-soaked hands?” She asked you, pushing her face further into your shoulder.

“I personally love those hands.” Tony announced, coming into the bathroom. He took a seat directly in front of her and gave her a gentle smile as he took the dagger out of her an and replaced it with his own. “No matter the colour.” 

“They’re the hands of a murderer, Tony. They’re disgusting.”

“They are not.” Bucky said, entering and joining the rest of you. “They are beautiful and strong and delicate, just like you.” He said, sitting on her other side.

Natasha remained quiet for a minute, mulling over your combined words and actions.

“Can we go have some dinner, please?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah we can do that.” Tony said, standing. “Do you need a hand old man?” Tony asked Bucky, causing Natasha to let out a quiet chuckle.

“Fuck off, Tony.” Bucky rolled his eyes as you and Natasha stood. While the boys argued you and Natasha led the way to the kitchen, your hand never leaving hers.

Though Steve disapproved of the language he would agree with the sentiment that HYDRA, were fucking dicks. Busy fucking dicks. The dicks seemed to be working 24/7 on projects to destroy the world and to ruin your lives.

“Where do you want to go after this?” Tony asked over the comms. “I was thinking some place Italian.”

“Last time we got Italian; you didn’t stop complaining the entire dinner.” Natasha snorted at the suggestion. 

“That’s not fair, Nat.” You chided. “He complained the whole way home too.”

“You're both mean.” Tony whined. 

“You two better be nicer to him or we’ll have to hear him complain the rest of the mission.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Speaking of the mission, maybe the four of you could start paying attention.” Steve suggested, finally cutting in.

“Speak for yourself punk.” Bucky grunted. “We’re already in the building.” He added as you all met up.

“What exactly are we looking for again, Rogers?” You questioned as the four of you began moving through the narrow corridors.

“The informant said there’s a secret room somewhere where they store their experiments.” Steve told you. 

“Yay, secret room.” Tony cheered as you all moved into a large lab. 

“Is there an exact location for this secret room, Steve?” Natasha asked him as you began to cautiously explore the area.

“Yeah what book do I pull?” Tony added.

“Sorry, he just said you'll know it when you see it.”

“Steve, be honest with me. Was Fury the informant?” Bucky asked him, knocking on the walls.

“Fury’s going to kick your ass when he hears that.” Natasha smirked at the brunette.

“Found it.” You chimed as the wall in front of you opened. 

“Aww, I wanted to find it.” Tony whined, moving next to you. “When we get back remind me to fit the tower with secret rooms.”

“I thought we would’ve had some of them already?” Clint spoke up over the coms.

“He’s too lazy to do it.” Natasha said as you all moved from the lab and into the secret room. The room itself was small but had five separate doorways lining the wall.

“Oh this is fucking suspicious. F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan for heat signatures.” Tony said.

“Language.”

“Scans show only two heat signatures behind doors one and four.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. told you.

“Buck and I’ll take door one if you two take door four.” You said, the three each giving you a nod. Bucky aimed his gun at the door as you slammed it open.

There stood a man who had to be in his late thirties with a malicious look on his face. His head snapped up at your entrance and suddenly his skin turned into molten lava. He pressed his hand to the ground and a trail of lava shot towards the two of you.

Bucky quickly took a shot to his shoulder and you shot a blast of ice at molten rock. After you extinguished the flames, Bucky rushed forward and knocked the man out.

“Good job.” You smirked, pulling him out of the room. The two of you rushed towards the fourth door and saw an unconscious man in his late teens next to Natasha and Tony, who was out of his suit, who were kneeled on the floor.

"Tony. Tony, look at me." Natasha said, tapping his face gently. "Come on Tony focus on me."

"What's going on?" You asked her, kneeling next to her.

"The dick over there has Wanda’s powers." Natasha said, still tapping Tony's face. "Come on Tony, we're right here."

Tony let out a loud gasp as his eyes suddenly focused and began darting around the room.

"Tony, breathe it's us. You're okay. No-one's going to hurt you." Bucky soothed, touching his arm.

"Oh shit, I'm having a heart attack." Tony gasped, holding his hand to his chest. "Oh shit, I'm dying."

"You're not dying. You're having a panic attack." You told him, taking his face in your hands. 

"You know how to stop this Tony." Natasha said. "What are the steps the therapist taught you?"

The three of you coaxed Tony through his steps until he could finally breathe again.

For a minute the four of you just sat there, Tony still breathing heavily as the three of you watched him in concern.

"I'm good. It's good. I'm good." Tony said, standing on shaky legs.

"Yeah? You're ok?" Natasha asked him.

"Yeah. I promise." Tony said, giving her a weak smile. 

"You know we're talking about this when we get home, right?" Bucky said as you wrapped an arm around his waist.

"I know, that's okay." Tony nodded. "Let's get out of here. We'll get the clean up team to deal with these two."

Tony wasn't great at displaying weakness around the team so it wasn't until you made it back home he shut down.

The boy had shown the three of you and the team dead and Tony wasn't able to do anything. The three of you stayed with him fort h night ensuring he knew you all loved him and he was doing more than enough for the world.

The four of you were the strongest of the avengers. The four of you had a lot of walls, and it was only when around each other you allowed the walls to fall and show some semblance of weakness.

Taglist

@hopingforbarnes @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @rvgrsbrns @agent-barnes40 @jelly-fishy-babie @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot

Show me your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/message me any comments, ideas, pairings, taglist requests, or whatever you wish.

Coming soon;

Dean x reader x Cas

Wanda x reader x Vision

Steve x reader x Wanda

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Tony x reader x Steve

Meg x reader x Cas

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[silent-killer-0227]

Love By Chance on CRACK - Part I

100 Love By Chance INCORRECT quotes that might as well be correct.

I do not take any credit on these quotes. All I did was to compile and arrange them in a way that they’d follow a timeline.

ENJOY THE EFFECT OF MY BOREDOM!

--------------------

001

Ping: What's your default reaction when you see someone who's just too good-looking for this world?

Pond: I stare.

Pond: I smile.

Pond: Then I put down the mirror.

--------------------

002

Pete: What's the first thing you notice when someone comes up to you?

Tin: The audacity.

--------------------

003

Ae: You can't make everyone like you. You're not Pete.

Pond: What? Not everyone likes Pete.

Ae: Who doesn't?

Pond: Well -

Ae: Names, now. Give me their names.

--------------------

004

Can: That's one of my biggest fears.

Good: What is?

Can: If I ever, like, woke up as a doughnut.

Good, gasping: You would eat yourself?

Can: I would not even hesitate.

Techno: YOU DRAGGED ME OUT OF THE FOOTBALL FIELD JUST TO HEAR THIS?!

--------------------

005

Ae: I started school with straight A's.

[ Pete walks by. ]

Ae: Now I'm not even straight.

--------------------

006

Techno: I think you should-

Champ: I am not taking advice from someone who pronounces "g" in lasagna

--------------------

007

Ae: Can I talk to you for a minute?

Pond: Oh, no... Am I in trouble?

Ae: Take a guess.

Pond: No?

Ae: Take another guess.

--------------------

008

Technic: You need a hobby.

Kengkla: I have a hobby.

Technic: Obsessing over my brother isn't a hobby.

--------------------

009

Pete: Do you have any bags I can borrow?

Tin: The only bags I have are the ones under my eyes, and they're specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence.

Pete: ...

Pete: A simple 'no' would have sufficed.

--------------------

010

Ae: *holds the door open for Pete* After you.

Pete: No, after you.

Ae: I insist, after you.

Pond: *pushes past both of them* After me.

--------------------

011

Tin: Love is dead. It never existed. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.

Can: *does something stupid but cute*

Tin: Hold up a second -

--------------------   

012

Techno: Ae said he has butterflies in his stomach.

Can: Why would he eat butterflies?

Good: How will they come out?

Can: Even I wouldn't dare to eat butterflies.

--------------------

013

Ping: So is this thing between Ae and Pete supposed to be a secret?

Pond: Hardly. The only people who don't know Ae loves Pete are Ae and Pete.

--------------------

014

Type: Has anyone ever told you that you're damn smart?

Techno, grinning: No.

Type: At least you're surrounded with honest people.

--------------------

015

Pond: Ae can't be that good in everything. There's got to be something he's bad at.

Bow: Maybe he's a bad kisser.

Pete: No, he's good at that too.

Pond: ....

Ping: What?

Bow: What?

Pete: What?

--------------------

016

Pond: You kissed Pete?

Ae: In my defense, it was dark and Pete was looking utterly adorable.

--------------------

017

Tin: Are we fighting or flirting right now?

Can: I just told you I hate you.

Tin: Unclear.

--------------------

018

ChaAim: Don't say a word.

Pond: Fergalicious.

ChaAim: I said no words!

Pond: Oh I see how it is. Two weeks ago, playing Scrabble, it wasn't a word, but now it is. How convenient for you.

--------------------

019

Can: How come "you're a peach" is a compliment but "you're bananas" is an insult? Why are we allowing fruit discrimination to tear society apart?!

Type: Where do you even come up with these thoughts??

--------------------  

020

*Techno does something stupid*

Kengkla: What an absolute idiot.

Kengkla: Can’t believe I’d kill for them.

--------------------

021

Ae: Pete is really good-looking.

Chompoo: Don't be jealous, P'Ae, you're good-looking too.

Ae: I am not being jealous, Chompoo, I am being gay.

--------------------

022

Pete: Will you two stop arguing?

Tin: We're not arguing. We're having a discussion.

Can: We too are having an argument!

Tin: Discussion.

Can: Argument!

Tin: Discussion.

Can: Argument!

Ae: Can't believe they're actually having an argument about if they're having an argument

--------------------

023

Officer: Okay, what are your names?

Good: Don't tell him, Can.

Officer, writing it down: Can.

Good: Oh...

Can: Way to go, Good.

Officer: ....

Can: Shit.

--------------------

024

Techno: Why are you two holding hands?

Ae: Studies show that holding hands relieve stress.

Techno: Oh, I thought you were dating or something.

Pete: We are. We're also very stressed.

--------------------

025

Pete: Are you alright?

Tin: Yes, why?

Pete: You asked the woman at the store if damage repair shampoo also works on emotions.

--------------------

026         

Can: I wasn't even that drunk.

Lemon: You were watching the television and laughing.

Can: So?

Lemon: The television wasn't even on.

--------------------

027

Pond: I dare you to kiss the first person who walks into this room.

Ae: That's stupid. I'm not going to-

[ Pete walks in ]

Ae: Well, I mean, a dare is a dare.

--------------------

028

Can: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Techno: Wasn't Good with you?

Good: In my defense, I was left unsupervised too.

--------------------

029

Techno, tearing up: My cramps are so awful. I hate mother nature.

Kengkla: I'll screw mother nature up!

Kengkla: *throws trash everywhere*

--------------------

030

Pete: You don't want to admit it but if anyone else is mean to Can, you'd beat them up.

Tin: *scoffs* Not really.

Can, coming into the room with a pout on his face: Pond said he's gonna kick my ass.

Tin, standing up: Not if I kick his first.

--------------------

031          

Pond: Are you alright?

Ping: Do you feel like you're going to pass out?

Ae, bleeding out: I can't. I have a date with Pete tonight.

Ping: ....

Ping: We need to discuss your priorities.

--------------------

032

Pete: I know you actually care for your supposed enemy, Can.

Can, internally: Act dumb.

Can: Who's Can?

Can, internally: not that dumb.

--------------------

033 

Techno: I miss hanging out with Champ.

Type: Well, I'm still here.

Techno: It's not the same, Type. I can talk to Champ about the things I can't talk with you.

Type: Like?

Techno: Well, for instance, the annoying things you do.

Type, glaring: Techno...

Techno, pointing at Type: See? I can't talk to you.

--------------------

034

Technic: You're really bad with boundaries.

Kengkla: Name one boundary I've crossed.

[earlier]

Kengkla, picking the front door lock of No and Nic's house with a paper clip: Hey, can I come in?

--------------------

035

Pond: I know I have been talking about ChaAim all morning. But another thing I love about her is she just gets me.

Ae: Can she come get you right now?

--------------------

036

Can: What type of person do you like?

Tin: Small-eyed, loves food and football, dumb, sometimes cute, sometimes annoying, overprotective of their friends.

Can: That sounds just like me, except I'm not a girl.

Tin: Did I mention 'dumb'?

Can: Yeah...

Tin: Just making sure.

--------------------

037

Bow: Is that a hickey?

Pete: No... It's a mosquito bite.

Ae: *walks in* Hey guys.

Pond: Hi, mosquito.

--------------------

038

Techno: Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.

Champ: Are you okay?

Techno: Ai'Can stole my fucking french fries!

--------------------

039

Pond: Wanna hear a joke?

ChaAim: Not really.

Pond: Oh, c'mon, please?

ChaAim: Fine.

Pond: Knock knock!

ChaAim: Come in.

Pond: ...

Pond: Seriously…

--------------------

040

Pete: Are you sure you aren't dating Tin?

Can: If I am, I certainly wasn't informed of it.

Pond: To be fair, if anyone of us were dating someone without realizing it, it would be you.

--------------------

041

Tar: I would die for you.

Tum: I'd die for you first.

Type, shouting across the field: No one here is dying!

--------------------

042

Techno: What's up, Ae?

Ae, after another day of dealing with Pond: My blood pressure, Captain.

 --------------------

043

Tin: I've never had a best friend in my entire life.

Can: I'll be your best friend.

Tin: Now that I think about it, I've never had a boyfriend either.

Can: ...

--------------------

044

Ae: You know when I was your age...

Kengkla: You know when I was your height...

Ae: ...

Ae: Listen –

--------------------

045

Ae and Pete: *staring at each other lovingly*

Pond: *pops soda can open*

Ae: We were having a moment.

Pond: Yeah, and I'm having a soda.

--------------------

046

Can: You like me? You like my personalities?

Tin: That’s a normal reaction. I'm surprised too.

--------------------

047

Technic: What's this?

Kengkla: It's my to-do list.

Technic: Wow, that's cool! So you're starting to be-

Technic: ...

Technic: This just says 'Techno'

Kengkla, smirking: Yeah.

--------------------

048

Pete: Having something or someone to take care of has the ability to improve your mental health!

Techno: Like a kid?

Pete: Well yeah, or perhaps a plant, or-

Techno: I already have Can and Good and I don't see how it's improving my mental health in the slightest.

--------------------

049

Pond, texting: Where are you and Pete?

Ae: WE'RE FUCKING

Ae: GETTING [not delivered]

Ae: SOME LUNCH [not delivered]

Pond: OK, nvm

Ae: NO, WAIT [not delivered]          

--------------------

050

No: I'm such an idiot.

Nic: ...

No: ...

Nic: ...

No: ...

Nic: If you're waiting for me to argue with you, P', it's gonna be a long night.

--------------------

051

Tin: *holding Can's hand*

Pete: FINALLY!

Pond: Who asked who?

Tin: I did. Kept it nice and short.

Can: You yelled, "Listen here, you little shit. I have feelings for you and I know you have feelings for me and it's goddamn time we acknowledge them!" drunk outside my house.

Tin: Nice and short.

--------------------

052

Can: Tin and I are no longer friends.

Tin: That's the worst way to admit we're dating, Cantaloupe.

--------------------

053

Kengkla: P'No, I think we should be more than friends.

Techno: Best friends?

Kengkla: No, more than that.

Techno: Mega best friends?

--------------------

054

Techno: FOUR MONTHS!

Champ: What?

Type: Oh my god, you finally figured it out.

Techno: YOU WATCHED ME WATER A FAKE PLANT-

Champ: Huh...

Techno: - FOR FUCKING FOUR MONTHS!

Type: Your misery brings me a great joy.

--------------------

055

Pete: The food's too hot. I can't eat it.

Pond: …

Ping: ...

Ae: you're hot and I'd still eat y-

Bow, slamming her hands on the table: One meal. One peaceful meal is all I ask for.

Click here for PART II

#love by chance #love by chance the series #love by chance season 2 #aepete #tincan #klano #tumtar #lbc ae #lbc pete #lbc tin #lbc can #lbc kengkla #lbc techno #lbc tum #lbc tar #saintperth #meanplan #markgun #titleearth #incorrect quotes #crack fic probably #perthsaint

[prehistoricalcats]

Demeter asks: 2, 5, 6, 14, 16, 17, 22, 25, 29 (I love Demeter can you tell? 😄)

I would have been able to answer this on actual Demeter day, but Tumblr went down right when I was trying to post this last night, so it's a day late

Hell yeah! Let's do this! Demeter lovers assemble!!!

ahem but first let me put in a trigger warning for domestic abuse and child abuse

Even if that sort of thing is upsetting to you, you should still be able to safely continue reading if you skip questions 5 & 6

2. Who do they look to for guidance?

Depending on the nature of the issue, usually either Bomba or Deut, and also an elder OC I haven't discussed in detail yet named Hildebriar

5. What is a secret that they have?

This is the trigger warning one! From here to "End TW" contains discussions of abuse

Okay you ready for some controversial headcanons?

She was abused by her father as well as several of her older brothers, and she had at least two abusive intimate relationships before meeting Macavity.

Mac himself didn't actually physically abuse her, but he abused a lot of other people in his life during the time Demeter was with him, and he terrified her because she knew what he was capable of.

The Jellicles (except Bomba whose time with Mac overlapped Demeter's) think he must have smacked her around, because they recognize her behavior as typical of an abuse victim. She knows it's wrong to let them think that, but she's too ashamed and afraid to admit that her own father hurt her.

(Mac, for his part, recognizes that he treated her poorly, even if it was better than he treated most people those days, even if it was better than whoever hurt her before, it's no excuse, he knows he was a jerk and that associating with him was terrible for her mental health, and it's something he regrets deeply)

6. Would they trust anyone with their secret?

Bomba knows it wasn't Mac that hurt her, because she was already hurt when she joined the gang. But she doesn't know about her father.

Demeter wants to tell someone, but she's so ashamed. She thinks Bomba and/or Munk should be the people she tells, but she would probably actually find it easier to talk to Deuteronomy about it. Compassionate, empathetic Deut who doesn't have a hateful bone in his body.

While she loves Munk and Bomba dearly, and they love and support her with all their hearts, her shame is so great that she feels if they knew the truth they wouldn't love her anymore, and losing their love would be devastating.

But she can't imagine Deut ever rejecting or judging someone over what happened in their past (especially if they did nothing wrong, no matter how much they feel like they did).

End TW. You should be able to continue safely from this point

Okay so we've opened up with some pretty heavy thoughts. Time to move on to more lighthearted stuff!

14. What is something that never fails to make them excited?

Roller coasters. You'd think she'd be terrified, but she just loves them. Huge adrenaline rush, and that sort of "safe danger" kind of scary that feels super good (for some people anyway lol). Theme parks in general would be one of her favorite places, if it weren't for the crowds. Theme parks on a slow day? Ultimate day out 👍

Same goes for horror video games, for the same reason. PT, Silent Hill, Resident Evil, Slender, she's a big fan of all of these. This doesn't carry over to most horror films though, except sci-fi horrors (Alien is one of her favorites). She tends to prefer suspenseful mysteries when it comes to getting a thrill from film and tv.

16. What is the most romantic thing someone has done for them?

You mean aside from putting their own life/safety at risk to save/protect her?

Well once the she went walking in the woods with Bombs and Munk. By and by they got tired and sat down to rest a while in the shade of a tree. Cuddled up between her lovers, Demeter soon fell asleep.

When Munk and Bomba noticed they decided to try to have a surprise ready for her when she woke up. They took turns watching over her and gathering flowers. Munk also waded into a nearby stream to retrieve up some smooth shiny pebbles that he spotted, and Bomba picked up every bird feather she saw.

Then together they arranged them into flower crowns, with the tiny pebbles as gemstones and the feathers as ornaments. They scattered the leftover flowers around on the ground.

When she woke up she saw them both grinning at her, wearing the strangest flower crowns on their heads. What kind of flower crown has rocks and dirty old feathers in it? She giggled and asked what they'd been up to while she was asleep.

They pointed out the crown on her own head, which was even more ridiculous extravagant then theirs, and she noticed the flowers scattered around her, and she realized this was for her.

Her heart melted. She just about cried she was so moved. She had to explain to her (now very concerned) lovers that she wasn't upset, in fact she couldn't be happier!

The flowers have long since faded away, as flowers do, but she still has the feathers and pebbles, kept safe in a little tin box she keeps near her bed.

17. Who is their favorite person(s) to spend time with?

That's easy. Bombs and Munk. Her angels 💛💛

Outside of her romantic interests, though, she has rather a unique friendship with Mungo. No I can't explain it, and they can't explain it either. Somehow they just click ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mostly they kid around, goof off, act silly, and make dumb jokes when they hang out. I guess Mungo's easy-going sense of humor helps Demeter loosen up and enjoy life a little more

22. How indecisive are they?

Hmmm mildly. She sometimes struggles internally with important decisions, but little things are usually pretty easy.

One thing's for sure, she couldn't decide between Munk and Bomba. Good thing they love each other too! They have a perfect lovely three-sided romance because none of them could choose between the other two (nor were they remotely interested in choosing)

25. What is something they think they’re bad at, but are actually pretty competent at?

Fighting. She's braver than she gives herself credit for, and stronger than she seems as well. And damn is she fierce when she wants to be 💛

29. What do they do to relax?

Draw. A lot. She especially loves drawing people, and especially her loved ones. She has pages and pages and pages of sketches of Munk, Bomba, Deut, Mungo, the kittens, and the rest of the tribe. And she draws landscapes and horizons and just general scenery stuff, especially her own home and places around the Junkyard, and sometimes she draws objects, but she never arranges them in still-life, just draws them as is

She also draws things that trouble, her for therapeutic purposes. If it's something that bothers her enough she'll destroy it, but she's held on to quite a few sketches of her brothers, fire, Control officers, thunderstorm scenes, Mac, and other things she doesn't like, hidden away within the pages of her sketchbooks. She always destroys the drawings of her father though

She also plays piano, and while not all pieces are very relaxing to play *cough Liszt cough* she especially loves to play Chopin (her favorite composer), even the difficult ones, but especially the nocturnes

But for maximum relaxation, she loves to spend time just lounging in either Bomba's or Munk's arms, or ideally both. Many an afternoon she has spent half asleep in their arms, soaking up their warmth, maybe listening to one of their heartbeats, just perfectly content

#thanks for asking! #Demeter fan solidarity #sorry it's late #damn you tumblr #jellicle queen appreciation month #queens love #long post #Demebombastrap #tw: abuse #tw: domestic abuse #tw: child abuse #please don't eat this one tumblr

[weilongfu]

an arrange marriage au for tin and can for your prompt spam weekend please

For the sake of my mental health, I’m using Plan’s real last name (Kijworalak) as Can’s last name. (Kirakorn is his given name. Can is his nickname. I personally hate making his given name a last name.)

The Medthanans were a more than well-to-do family, with many people living and working their family lands. In their prestige and wealth, they had negotiated many alliances to continue maintaining their advantage. Among such negotiations was the marriage of their youngest son, Tin, to the son of the Kijworalaks, Can. 

The Kijworalaks did not possess much land, but it was rich in metal mines. Accordingly, their family was well known enough for their fine metalwork and jewelry techniques that had been passed down the family line. 

So it was with great dismay, that the Medthanans suddenly found the Kijworalaks befalling hard times after the death of the head of the family, Sun Kijworalak. His wife, Apple, was shrewd enough to keep things running, but grief had shut down much of the production by the family for far too long. 

While it would be possible to pull out of the arrangement, it would sour the reputation of the Medthanans greatly. So with a heavy heart, they pressed forward, much to the consternation of Can.

“I don’t want to marry that ice cold bastard anyway!” Can’s hammer blows rang louder than they needed to and Apple and everyone else in the family workshop winced. “Stupid asshole! Never worked a day in his life! Never-”

“Cantaloupe!” Apple twisted Can’s ear and Can’s howl was even louder than his hammer. “You are also a man of proper upbringing! Mind your tongue!”

“But Ma! Did you even see the wedding gift he sent?!” Can waved at a large opened box that was getting dirty in all the heat and dirt of the workshop. Apple made a face and waved at one of her maids to move it. “It’s a damn bunch of fabric! As if my clothes aren’t good enough-”

“The traditional Medthanan wedding present is two parts.” Apple slapped Can upside the head and everyone else stopped watching to return to work. “The first present is before the wedding. An offering of something fine. 

“What jewelry, what metalcraft could he offer you? What use have you for pottery when your hands work metal? Fabric is a finery that you can use and appreciate.” Unmindful of the sweat and grime on her son, Apple dragged him away. “Now let us properly see what your husband-to-be has sent you.”

——-

In the light of Can’s room, the maids had arranged the fabric within Tin’s package artfully. The first was a large hand-painted silk robe which the maids hung up to display. Unlike the rougher and lower lights of the workshop, Can was able to admire the artistry to the fullest. A powerful bird in flight, it’s nest within view and it’s partner resting within. The bird soared above thorns and bramble into a cloudless sky. The details were so fine, Can was able to count each feather. The lapels and collar had fine gold embroidery and the buttons were actually incredibly intricate and ornate knots. 

The second gift was a finely embroidered and well stuffed duvet. The fabric was wonderfully soft to the touch and sticking a hand underneath it left Can feeling far too warm. A perfect thing to have in the colder regions where the Medthanans lived. 

Something to clothe him. Something to protect him. An assurance of sorts that Can would be treated well after his marriage. Can had not expected half so much after the last times he and Tin had met. 

At the first meeting, Can thought himself lucky. At least Tin was attractive. Perhaps he could grow to like him. He had heard many things. Among them, that Tin was accomplished and well-spoken. Although there was no time to let them talk that day, Tin had seemed thoughtful and clever. Things Can appreciated.

The second meeting, Tin had taken him on a tour of the mansion, showing Can books and other entertainments, showing Can the workshop they were building for him so that he may do as he pleased. Tin’s expressions were much softer, kinder. He took Can’s hand as if it were nothing. It took great effort for Can to speak without stumbling over his tongue and Tin accepted it all so indulgently. At this point, Can thought perhaps they could have a happy future.

The third meeting had been confusing. Can had done his best to make an effort to get to know who he was marrying. Instead, Tin had been cool and aloof, curt and insulting. His language was fine, but stilted, completely unlike the informal language Can was used to with his family. It was such a drastic change from their last meeting that it gave Can whiplash. Not knowing how to respondCan had left feeling frustrated and ill-tempered. In the end, Tin had barely said good bye, but at least he had helped Can into his carriage. Can did not pretend to remain unfazed by the way Tin shook his hand out afterwards, as if Can had a disease.

“It is not so poor a thing now, is it,” Apple said as she too stroked the duvet. “Tin cares. These are not inexpensive things.”

“Mistress,” said one maid. “There was something else in the box. But we did not think the young master would like us to display it.”

“What?!” Can ran over to where the maids had the box and his face turned bright red. “H-He did not!”

“Oh my, I suppose there is some affection after all if that is your expression,” Apple said in between giggles. “Is it very forward?”

Face flushing crimson, Can removed a pair of silk underwear from the box. The maids barely stifled their giggles. 

“Very forward,” Can managed to say.

Apple dismissed the maids who finally rid themselves of their giggle fits. “So what do you say now to your fiancee? Is his gift… suitable?”

Can sighed. “You did not send our wedding gift yet, did you?”

“No. You know what our tradition is.”

“Then please allow me some extra time. I think I’ve something else I’d like to make for my… future husband.”

Apple only smiled.

——

On their wedding day, Tin’s face was calm but his insides twisted and churned. Can had not replied after receiving Tin’s gift. Nor had he sent his wedding present yet. 

Perhaps the effect of Tul’s words had been too great. 

“You’ll never be happy. Not so long as I live. Not even with your little metalwork toy,” Tul had sneered. “He’ll use you and you’ll see. You’ll see you were meant to be broken. That there is no soul who will fill the cracks in yours.”

By the time Tin had shaken Tul off, Can’s visit was over and Tin had been truly poor company. Can had made such earnest and interested efforts to know him, and Tin had been too distrustful. But Can’s hand had still burned as hot as the fires and forges he worked with and Tin could not shake the feeling of how wonderful such warmth felt.

He had hoped his wedding presents would make up for them, although perhaps the underwear had been too forward. But Tin could not think of another way of making his intentions clear within something traditional and not entirely scandalous. It was another way to say he adored Can, was interested in Can in many ways. 

The other option was that Tin had been too forward. And that in itself was a nightmare.

A knock at the door shook Tin from his thoughts. His best friend, and best man for the wedding, Pete gave him a small smile, carrying a small, highly polished, wooden box. 

“A servant from the Kijworalak family just came by to drop off Can’s wedding presents for you.” Pete pressed the wooden box into Tin’s hands. “It is his request that you wear them for the ceremony.”

Tin opened the box to find the bird he had painted on Can’s robe exquisitely crafted in metal in many variations. A tiepin of the bird in flight, noble and regal. The two birds nesting together, small gems as their eggs, made lovely cuff links. A pendant of the two birds circling each other, graceful and free. 

It was charming, all too charming and lovely. And Tin knew perhaps his intentions, his promises, had been understood. 

Pete smiled as Tin quickly exchanged the pieces he was wearing for Can’s work. “How nice of you to receive them so well. I shall tell them you’ll be ready for the ceremony soon.”

——-

At the start of the ceremony, Can was strangely silent, but his expression was pleased when he saw Tin wearing his present. At the presenting of the wedding rings, Can’s was of course, the bird Tin had painted, but beautiful enamel and filigree work made it stand out. Classic elegance that befit Tin’s style. 

Tin almost regretted the ring he had picked for Can, it seemed gaudy by comparison to offer something so simple as polished amber, the color of Can’s eyes, set in silver and gold. 

Can admired it regardless and so Tin took it as a win.

Tin did his best to continue to placate Can during the reception. He kept his husband’s plate and cup full and listened intently to everything Can said. Can in turn took Tin’s hand in his own, and unless he was eating, he did not let go.

Tin wondered if this was what happiness could feel like.

——

After the reception, they retired to Tin’s bedroom. Can looked almost giddy and Tin couldn’t help the effervescent feeling in his chest.

Tin turned to remove his jacket, but Can stopped him, running his hands over his work that Tin so proudly wore. “I am glad you liked my presents. I did not sleep until they were finished.” Can pressed his fingers to his lips and then pressed them to the pendant and tiepin. He lifted Tin’s left hand to his lips and kissed the cuff link before kissing the ring. 

“You are a very confusing man, Tin Medthanan.” Can pulled away and Tin could not help the hand that reached out for him. “You seem so charming one day, so cold the next. Your gift first threw me into a rage and then embarrassed me into silence.” 

“I beg you to forgive me.” Tin pulled himself closer again, against Can’s back. “My brother… I could not shake his words that day, and am sorry that I caused you pain.” Tin’s grip tightened. “But I promise you, I care for you. Our last meetings have secured your place in my heart, if you will have it.”

“I think… I think I will.” Can slipped out of Tin’s arms and took his jacket off. Tin enjoyed the sight of Can’s shoulders and arms working as his shirt also slid to the floor. But what tipped Tin over the edge was the sight of the silk underwear he had sent to Can as a present, stretched taught over his ass. “If you’ll come to bed, husband, I have another present for you.”

Tin barely managed to slip his jacket off before he was tackling Can into the soft sheets of his bed. Can laughed, wild and surprised, as Tin pressed kisses on all available skin. 

“You are a tease,” Tin said as he bit Can’s earlobe. “A delightful tease.”

“Do you not enjoy how your present looks on me?”

“It looks far more fine than I could have imagined.” Tin’s hands slid up Can’s thighs and the moan from Can was like music. 

“Should I give you my other present now?”

“Is this not it?” Tin kissed Can, searching for the taste he had found during their first kiss after the ceremony.

“No…” Can said, breathless. “It is not.” Scrambling to find something on the bedside table, Can presented Tin with another box.

Tin opened it to find a large metal ring. “What kind of ring is this?”

“One forward present deserves another. It is no ring for your finger.” Can’s hands slid into Tin’s pants and Tin shivered. “It is for something bigger.”

“I-I thought I was too forward by sending you undergarments.”

“Well… Shall we see how you enjoy this present?”

(Their marriage was a happy one in many ways after all.)

#prompt spam weekend #love by chance #lbc #lbc fic #lbc fiction #tincan #Anonymous

[voidsfanficfortress]

Part 1 , here

-Alright everyone!-Ash shouts,as a couple of operators stand around her-its time to assign the proteges , youll be taking care of them , and teach them how to control their powers, their files Will be given to you, shortly after-

-Who do you think ill get?- Florence whispers to the rest of her Friends-who Will be first to--

-Goyo you go with Florence- Eliza says looking at her clipboard.

The mexican operator nodds and walks over Florence, they start to talk soonly after.

-Dokkaebi youre with celest, amaru you go with Alex, and ...-the american woman looks at her paper, doubting Wether or not to assign the spaniard to the last kid.She sighs- Jackal you go with gericho-

The dragonborn lets out a squeak as jackal approaches them, they extend their hand as a greeting, and smiles anxiously,the Man shakes their hand.

-Im , Im Gericho, nice to meet you jackal!, we uh--

-you know the schedule?-the spanish operator cuts them off, and G nodds-Good, when is Next training?-

-In a couple of hours...--

-Good then- Jackal says walking away-See you there-

Gericho stands there, kind of dissapointed as they look at him walk.

Werent...werent they supposed to go out to eat icecream Like the rest of the operators and their proteges?.

They just sigh and try to follow him, but he was gone, too Many people and probably it was a good idea not to push it.

{...}

-You think he didnt like me?- G asks to Alex, preparing for training, the dragonborn was checking their summoning bracelets, and their friend, the sorcerer, was shuffling his tarot cards- He just kind of...Walked away...I really wanted to talk with him...he seemed cool...and rather cute..-

-Now now dont say that-Alex hugs them tightly, caressing their back- youre really cool!, and just because a grumpy old Man doesnt want to talk doesnt mean youre any less of a badass, if he is a bitch with the rest of the people its his damn problem!-

G chuckles and hugs back tightly.

-Youre the best friend anyone could have bro-

-Okay okay, training starts in two minutes, have your Gear ready!-Amaru shouts.

{...}

Jackal showed up mid training, once the agility course was done.

-Where the fuck have you've been?- azucena grabs jackal by the shirt-do you have any idea of how unmotivated your kid feels?!, also heard you left them by their own after the asignation was done!-

-Im nobodys Daddy-jackal says angrily- if they cant control their shit, what do we have to do?-

The peruvian woman is ready to punch him Straight on the face, when gericho arrives, gleam in their eyes as the hug jackal tightly.

-You came!-they look up at him and notice his scowl, they pull away and look at the floor.

Azucena whispers to herself- I have never seen them like this-

-You go training-the spaniard almost orders them to do, and the kid just goes back, as fast as they can- I cant Belive we have to babbysit these brats!-

Dokkaebi looks away from celest, telling her to drink water and to take a break.

-Brats?!- Grace says- these kids are saints!and your protege has done nothing but to obey every single instruction, they are amazing , and powerful,you should be fucking grateful!-

-Grateful for what?,Having to watch over them?,I Couldnt give even a single shit if they are powerful, I should be doing operator shit, training or even searching for the evidence box!-

-There you go again!- Azucena grunts-that damn box, youll find it another day!, go and check up on your kid, we dont have their file, we dont know their powers,and we dont know what excersice to give them-

Jackal groans and walks over to gericho.

-alright kid, show me what you can do-the spaniard says.

-You...you have my file,you..you should know by now...-Their voice is almost a whisper, they look away not having enough bravery to look him in the eye.

-I could care less about the fucking file!, I have enough with watching over you!-ryad finally snaps and screams.

The dragonborn jumps back, tears already forming in their eyes, they whisper a sorry and ran away, leaving nothing but a trail of fading green light as they go away.

- Now you fucked up!- amaru screams at jackal.

{...}

Its already midnight, jackal walks around his bedroom, catching a glimpse of the files.

Something in the back of his mind tells them to at least Open them, to read them.

He sighs in defeat and sits on the desk, opening the file and starting to read.

Gericho's last name is censored.

-Codename, Wildfire , abilities...terrakinesis, pyrokinesis, summoning....-he goes over them, Reading what they can do.But the notes are the ones that hits him hard.-agent wildfire presents severe anxiety,unsolved trauma and untreated depression and insomniac episodes, must handle any interactions with them as lightly and relaxed as possible in order to not worsen their insecurities and mental health-

Oh. Fuck.

The spaniard throws on a Jean and a jacket, opening his bedroom door and making his way to Gericho's bedroom.

'Hopefully they are awake...'he thinks as he knocks their door.

-Who is it?- their voice is low , more than the one you expect to use at late hours of the night.

-Its jackal- he hears a sad sigh- I didnt came here to criticise you, just to say sorry and make it up to you, I heard you didnt went to eat dinner , there is a place we can go to eat, if you want-

He hears silence.

-Give me five, I need to change-

Ryad face Contorns into a small smile, five minutes after g comes out, hiding their face in an oversized black hoodie.

-Ready to go?-

They nodd and both of them walk to the garage,they make small talk while walking and Driving to the fast food restaurant.

As the dragonborn eats , jackal mentally prepares to say his apollogy.

-Look gericho,I was a dick to you today, and im sorry, there is a lot of shit going on in my life, it doesnt justify the way I treated you earlier,and im sorry, ive been watching you these past few days before the asignation , and you are a really strong kid, youve been trough so much shit, and I shouldnt be giving you more to deal with , im really really sorry-

G sits with him and hugs him, the spaniard hugs back and smiles caressing their hair.

Then gericho starts to eat their food,both of them sit in comfortable silence.

{...}

-Do you mind if I make you company?,I cant sleep either-

Jackal looks at the clock,2 in the morning.

-Yeah come in, I need help with something anyway-Gericho walks over to jackal's desk, seeing him tinkering with his gadget-could you hold these two cables like this?-

G nodds and holds the two cables like ryad told them to,he begins to solder the broken copper fibers with tin.

But to no avail no electricity flows trough them.

-Dont tell me i have to replace the whole sistem again!-

-I dont think you have to , let me try something- gerichos hand envelops the broken cables,they whisper something and they give jackal the two cables back they are intact- try it-

Ryad turns on his device, electricity runs smoothly and the lights on the eyenox lit up.

-Wow...Gracias..-( thank you)

-Youre welcome, is that everything?-

The spaniard stares at the device dumbfolded.

-Do uh..do you want coffee?-he looks at them amazed.

-Tea please-

G cant help but smirk at how impressed jackal looks.

After a couple of hours of talking, finally sleep catches up to gericho,as jackal talks he feels a head resting on his arm, he looks over and finds his protege asleep.He chuckles and lays them on the bed, he kisses their forehead.

-Buenas noches chiquito-

{...}

-Void.

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

Mutual Pining (3/7)

March’s monthly story, as voted on in my Patreon poll. Posted late due to health complications last month.

Check out my Patreon and consider joining my private Discord server to hang out!

Title: Mutual Pining Relationships: Templar!Carver Hawke/Merrill Rating: E for eventual smut (will be marked) Summary: A week of shore-leave turned into an impromptu camping trip with Merrill, and Carver made the mistake of not checking when Isabela and his sibling helped pack the bags. It had all the essentials, Bela swore, except for one thing:

It only had one tent.

Notes: set somewhere in Act 2, and Carver’s been a Templar now a year and a half or so. Turns out, it might end up longer than seven parts, these two keep surprising me.

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]

==

“You don’t have to come. I mean, if you don’t want to. You don’t have much time to spend in town and I’m sure you didn’t plan on spending a week in the middle of the woods…”

Carver nursed his mug of strong tea and took the pastry Merrill offered. He glanced back at his pack, which was so lovingly, and thus suspiciously, packed by his sibling and Isabela. She swore it had everything he needed, that she made sure of it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, only half a groan. Was the sunshine always so bright in the morning? He emptied his mug and poured another from the kettle Merrill had thoughtfully prepared. “Not like I have anything better to do this week.”

She stilled and he mentally kicked himself.

He could have just as easily said something like “Sure, Merrill, I have loads of free time, let’s go do whatever you’d like,” or “it beats being at home with the lovebirds.” Even something simple, like “I like the woods” would have been better. But no, he had to go and hurt her feelings, like an asshole.

Shit, what a way to start the day. He wanted to spend the time with her, he did. Carver had angled for any time with her he could get almost since the day they’d met... but Merrill was a friend--and a mage, and Carver had been a Templar now for over a year and a half. He had long accepted nothing coming of the crush he’d harbored; she was a good friend and that was enough.

But damn, of all the ways he could ruin this rare and impromptu stretch of alone time with Merrill, Carver didn’t expect “complaining and hungover while still at her house” before it even started to be it.

“Oh,” was all she said, softly.  

Carver scowled into his tea.

“Lucky me, then, I guess, that you have the time.” Merrill belted herself into a knee-length coat and pulled a kerchief over her head, smoothing it over her hair and ears to ward off the chill of the autumn morning air. “You ready?”

He chugged his mug of too-hot tea and pulled on his heavy traveling pack. She gave him a distracted smile and strapped on her own pack, and they made their way out of the city.

---

She was uncharacteristically quiet on the journey. Not even her thin boots made much noise in the early morning, softly scuffing over the dirt and gravel of the Lowtown streets and then the dirt and gravel on the roads out of Kirkwall.

It didn’t get much better as the day wore on. They took a bend that drew them away from the expected shadow of the Sundermount and toward the wider Vimmark peaks, following the directions of a map frequently unrolled, consulted, and tucked once more into her belt. Even their lunch was a muted affair, another tin of Orana’s meat pasties from the night before eaten at the edge of a small stream.

“So where exactly are we heading?” Carver finally asked as the sun began to set. The road was long behind them and now they worked through a plain of hip-high grasses. Merrill stopped every few feet, carefully pinching off flowering stems between her fingers and handing them to him to lay in one of the woven baskets strapped to her back.

“Oh, there’s a grove up… well, somewhere, in the mountains.” She handed him another handful of plants before taking out her map again—one of Varric’s, Carver saw, familiar heavy script flowing over the rolled page. Her fingers walked over the thin lines and her gaze flickered from the map to the world around them and back again.

“Oh, we’re closer than I thought! Look,” Merrill said and turned to him, thrusting the map in his hands. She pointed out a sketched ring of trees toward the northeast. “See, here’s where we want to be, and here—” she traced her fingers back along a winding path through the mountains “—is where we are.”

“Merrill, this looks less like a map and more like a sketch I pawned off on Bethany to find ‘buried treasure’ with as a kid.”

Carver’s throat all but caved in as he spoke. His hands clenched at his side and threatened to crush the greens clutched in his fists. Bethany. He didn’t talk about her in the years since… everything...  and he does now? Almost two years into Templarhood?

Would she understand, if she were here?

“Oh! Did she?” Her eyes were round, impossibly wide as she looked up at him. “Did you two find anything?”

He swallowed it down. “Just worms. Eli and Father used them and caught some trout. Mother nearly skinned us alive for the state of our clothes.”

Merrill smiled at that, the first of the day. “That sounds fun,” she said, a touch wistful. “Eli’s told me about her. She sounds really lovely, I’m sure I would have liked her.”

He huffed a short laugh and ignored the ache in his chest. “Yeah, I bet you would,” he agreed distantly. “Why don’t we—You said we’re close?”

She nodded. “We’re only a day or so away from the grove, I think. We should make camp here. Ooh, the stars will be so pretty, don’t you think?” Merrill looked up expectantly, urging the night’s stars to peek through the blazing sunset.

Carver only studied her face, tracing her small smile with his eyes. “Yeah, Merrill,” he said, “yeah.”

—

“Little Hawke?” Her hand brushed his arm and his hair stood on end along the path of her fingertips.

Carver stirred, blinking past the barely-there call of sleep. He turned in his bedroll to look at her in the scant moonlight. “Yeah, Merr?”

She chuckled. “Merr. I like that.” Her hand lingered where it laid on his forearm. “I wanted to say thank you for coming with me. I like having the company on these trips, and Bela’s been busy lately.”

“Yeah, Eli’s been eating up a lot of her time, among other things.”

He could hear the furrow of her brow in her voice. “...Does Isabela cook? I can’t imagine her and Orana working well together…”

Carver snorted. “Maker, no. Can you imagine it? What would she even make?”

“She burnt the tea when she last stayed over,” Merrill confided with a giggle. “I’m still not sure how she did that.”

“A woman of many talents, surely.”

“She is. Bela’s my best friend, you know,” she said, “and so helpful. Bela even helped me make sure I had enough room in my travel bag for my baskets when she walked me home last night! With you coming with me to help, I can gather so many more flowers and herbs!”

“Yeah, she’s—” Carver stopped, suddenly fully awake, and suddenly very suspicious. “Really helpful, isn’t she?”

“She is! Did she help you?”

“No—Eli did. Insisted on it, said they were soberer than me last night. I fell asleep almost as soon as we got home. Bela said she double-checked their work, though.”

“What a helpful sibling. I wish I…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers along Carver’s arm almost absentmindedly. “My family…”

Carver moved his arm to take her hand in his own. “Hey,” he said, “hey. You’ve got us. I know it’s not the same, but it’s something, right?”

Please say it’s something.

“Yeah,” Merrill murmured. He could just barely see the curve of her smile beside him. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

===

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]

#Carver Hawke #Merrill #Carvill #DA2 #Dragon Age 2 #fic: mutual pining #eventual s/mut #soulrebel writes #soulrebel writes: patreon #reblogs and likes are appreciated and welcome! #thank you!

[thehivemindwrites]

A  Series of Disconnected Thoughts, Cast into the Void in No Particular Order

1. I’ve been finding myself thinking more and more about Kill Six Billion Demons recently. Not just because it’s absolutely gorgeous artwork and Moebius-meets-prog-metal stylings are extremely my shit (KSBD is responsible for adding Gojira to my rotation of workout music, and that alone has me in its debt), but because I can really appreciate a main character who is a walking disaster coming to some kind of enlightenment through a combination of getting her ass handed to her repeatedly, making questionable decisions, and basically just deciding to struggle forwards because I don’t know, what the fuck else is there to do? It’s hardly original (see: basically any shounen about The Power of Friendship and Not Giving Up) but damn if the presentation of it in this particular case isn’t particularly delightful. Plus it gave us the image of a giant hulking demon wearing a jacket that says KILL BOSS and that’s rad.The creator of KSBD is also co-creator, as it happens, of the newly released Lancer TTRPG, which I backed on Kickstarter and will, one day, get a rad fucking hardcover copy of (but for now I’m reading through the pdf and swearing oaths that one day I will play it). Anyway, as someone who also got where he is through a series of questionable decisions and getting his ass handed to him by life in general (oh, and an enormous amount of luck), I can relate. Plus the phrase “Reach heaven through violence,” while kind of terrible on the surface, feels good to shout at yourself while you’re off for a run. 

2. Part of this whole exercise thing - a side-effect of it, if you wanna call it that - is that generally I feel better about myself like in general. I’ve mentioned that before. What it doesn’t do, of course, is magically mean that I’m now 100% good and not still dogged by a persistent sense of self-loathing that I’ve just had to accept will never really go away. Like for example: I’ve lost 35 kg since starting this whole gym thing, except you might remember the goal was 40. I still haven’t hit that goal, and frankly I’ve spent the last like three months bouncing around the same like, 3 kg zone because I’ve been traveling a lot and that basically fucks up my workout and eating routine. It’s frustrating, and it sure does let the part of me that knows deep down that I’m a fat fucker and always will be no matter what I do run wild from time to time. Which is, I’m coming to understand, just gonna always be there. This stuff doesn’t go away! Ever! 

Which doesn’t mean it’s right, even a little. You tune it out and throw yourself into battle with it over and over again. You get bloodied and broken and claw back and then you get bloodied and broken some more. Insert that gif from Princess Bride of Westly saying LIFE IS PAIN, HIGHNESS here. Thing is, there’s something about the struggle that’s nice. I am not sure how motivated I’d be to do anything if part of it wasn’t motivated by the desire to prove my dumb brain wrong about, uh, me. If I wasn’t fighting the various little demons that plague me every so often, I doubt I’d be so well-adjusted. I certainly wouldn’t be mentally healthy. None of this makes sense as I read it back, of course - it sounds like I’m saying “boy it’s nice to be miserable,” which isn’t true. Being miserable sucks shit! I don’t recommend it! But it is nice to see misery coming and punch it in the face (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes I think the thing that makes me go to the gym and work so hard (this sounds like I’m bragging, but I can assure you I’m not - “work so hard” means “not collapse and fall off the elliptical after five minutes because oh god I don’t want to be here”) is out of some desire for self-annihilation through pushing myself past my physical limits. Reach heaven through violence (see, I told you it sounded cool).

3. The world has gotten really fucking bad for a lot of people, and I don’t know that it will get better for them any time soon. In fact, given the latest talk from the ol’ UN Climate Change report, it’s gonna get even worse. I would very much prefer that were not the case! It’s motivation enough to get out and vote and shit, at least for me - and as someone who is, you know, ridiculously privileged, that’s the absolute least I can do. Which is why I try to do more, mostly involving donating money to causes that seem like they’re able to cause the sort of trouble that needs to be caused. Or just use expertise to protect the people I don’t know how to protect, because I’m a lot of things, and one of them happens to be smart enough to know that I don’t know shit. So I make sure people that do know shit have the money they need. Pretty straightforward, I think. 

The other thing I try to do, because giving money isn’t really something I think about much at all (I’m stupidly fucking fortunate to have a job that pays well, remember), is occasionally go out and actually be present at protests and the like - there are a lot of climate protests and they’re all a good time. Occasionally it’s worth overcoming one’s intense social anxiety to do so. Lord knows it’s significantly less of a risk for me to be out shouting at cops than most. 

4. She-Ra might be one of the best shows out there. There’s something nice about a show that both does and does not present a simple world. Yes, the Horde is bad. Like, objectively bad! They do a lot of looting and subjugating and are generally just deeply not chill people.On the other hand, the people who make up the Horde are still people, and I have a lot of time for a show that can manage to humanize its Big Bad Villain whilst still making it very clear they are  still, you know, not good. It’s messy, and complicated, and sad, because sometimes you have to fight people you used to be friends with! Sometimes you have to make the call that hey, we can’t be friends anymore, because I can’t support the things you’re doing anymore. I’ve made that call before - I bet everyone has, at some point (if you haven’t, I’m sure you’ll have to eventually). Fortunately for me, it’s never been that difficult of a choice, if only because the people I had to go against weren’t people I’d known for very long. 

Anyway, that’s part of it - you gotta just cut people out sometimes. There’s more to it though, because the other thing the show believes is that everyone - even the real shitty people - can change. It doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven, and it doesn’t erase all the bad shit, but they can still change. It’s worth changing, even if it isn’t a cure-all. 

So yeah, I like She-Ra a lot. It’s also just well-written, and funny, and it’s a real good time to see a bunch of diverse characters running around having adventures and being fuckin’ rad. Plus, they’ve shown an incredible willingness to completely change the stakes from season to season - the end of season four in particular is  the equivalent of detonating all the things you thought were important. It pulls a bait and switch so ruthless that I might have applauded if I wasn’t so self-conscious about making noise that my neighbors might hear. The combination of season 3 and 4 was a masterclass on raising the stakes and then explaining that actually, you were playing for stakes even higher than you could’ve thought possible. Oh, and the people you thought you could trust were just using you, and hey, what if we got rid of the thing that you’ve more or less defined yourself by for the entire show? Good luck in season five, motherfucker! I’m a fan, is what I’m saying.

6. Work on Vanquisher 2103 continues apace. I mentioned this before, but we’re doing a once-a-month schedule while the holidays and work beat my ass into the ground, and as it turns out I really enjoy taking a full month to write a chapter. It’s a comically slow pace, but it’s working for me and hopefully the fact that the chapters have tended to be a little longer (and allowed me to expand on ideas a little more, and do a little more research here and there) makes it worth the longer wait. I’d like this thing to be good! There’s a part of my brain, again, that will always insist that nobody reads this and it’s bad and I’m fucking up, constantly - that point, at least, is probably accurate. I am writing characters who in theory have life experiences that are very much Not Mine, which involves a lot of reading things from people who would know better than I do. It’s nerve-wracking, and the only thing I am bone-deep certain of is that I’ll fuck up and hopefully y’all will forgive me for fucking up when that happens. I’ll keep reading and refining and eventually maybe it’ll be okay. Hopefully, anyway.

7. I went to Ireland and guys, Ireland is bullshit. I am offended by its gorgeous cliff-sides and open grasslands and heart-rending beauty. The immense friendliness of the people I met and the fact that you can’t sit in a pub without hearing some dude play a jaunty reel on a tin whistle or accordion or something is a personal insult. I was Arthur Dent angrily demanding to know why this bloody fish is so good the whole time.

I cultivated an immense drinking habit while there. I was also approached by a random German tourist who somehow clocked that I could speak German and we shouted about socialism for an hour auf Deutsch. I met some woman from Louisiana and we ended up having drinks a couple nights in a row to talk about traveling in general and Germany in particular, because her ex-husband is German. There were some Swedish retirees who were both very pleased by their country’s social safety net and also depressingly sour about the fact that refugees got cheap dental care - we might have had some harsh words exchanged before more drinks helped smooth over our frank discussion of differing viewpoints. I had to explain American health care to some people from the UK who were surprisingly gung-ho about the idea of privatized medicine until they talked to me (one of them talked about how the UK used to be an Empire and could be again in such a way that made me want to throw things. We did not talk for very long because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle it). These were strangers that I willingly engaged, because I was having an adventure, and I guarantee none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been going to the gym and committed to the idea of proving the voice in my head that tells me I’m an awkward mess that nobody would ever want to talk to in their life wrong (also, let’s be honest, if I hadn’t had several pints of cider at the time). 

By the end of the trip if I heard one more pub singer’s version of Whisky in the Jar though, that I was gonna produce my pistol and fucking shoot myself in the head.

Go to Ireland if you can. If you live there, fuck you how dare you live somewhere that rad.

8. I didn’t have an eighth thing but I’m committed to this “each thing is numbered” bit which means that even the end of this thing has to follow the trope. This is the end of the post where I say “okay bye I’ll be back the next time I get the urge to throw a bunch of highly unpolished ideas out.” 

[calleo-bricriu]

Sometimes I start to think I might read a little too much.

So, I found this particular Muggle author in one of those, "It looked weird on the shelf and why not?" sort of ways that I often find books in Muggle shops.

Did a little bit of digging in to the author, William Lee Howard; apparently he was a fairly widely disrespected doctor that most other doctors viewed as a joke but that people who were not doctors thought was somehow brilliant.

Off to a good start.

The majority of the guy's books have to do with--not so much medical things but more, "Why everything is your wife's fault, trust me, I'm a doctor,” and by occasionally shouting in text about how he’s not a quack.

There were also two aimed at teenagers and I found a few chapter names completely self aware in one of them:

"Self-Abuse--How to Stop it--The Quacks" - Written as though he wasn't one.

"Environments and Diseases Which Rust Brain-Tools" - I'm going to start using Brain-Tools, I don't care that it's ridiculous. I like it because it's ridiculous.

Anyway, onto the book I'm mostly through.

It's the only one he published that wasn't--well, probably wasn't--intended to be some kind of medical book and it's the first one he had published.

No, it’s a story. A rambling, poorly written story.

The Perverts, 1901.

It's a bit difficult to read, not because it's as shocking as claimed but, because this guy just...rambles in a horribly disjointed manner that makes it difficult to follow what the hell is going on in his little story.

But, fine, I've read worse, just needs more focus; about halfway through, I stopped because it struck me that I've read this before.

Not this book specifically, the story, the entire plot, only the version I've read, while still written by a prose-y, rambling whackjob, was coherent and had much better flow to it.

Also, you could pretty easily follow the plot, as flimsy as it was.

In fairness, that one also probably could have been accurately titled The Perverts but there's always been a lot of unnecessary filler and prose in de Sade's writing (and he was at least self aware to the point that the last page of one of them essentially invites you to throw the book into the fire if you found reading it unenjoyable; tempting, but it's a heavy book and makes a good paperweight).

This man clearly read Justine (or The Misfortunes of Virtue) at some point; some similarities between bizarre things like that are bound to happen, pun intended given the topic, but this? This was very close to being the exact same book, just with renamed characters and a different time period setting.

de Sade wrote his in two weeks while in prison (and it shows) and this idiot somehow made it worse in terms of readability.

Oh, and the dedication? "To the memory of Edgar Allan Poe as a tribute to his genius, and in recognition of his struggles with a psychic incubus."

Okay.

I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

And then I started skimming his other books and this has got to be one of the most unintentionally funny things I've read in awhile, "It has been my fortune――for so I consider it――to have been brought into intimate relations with men who are failures."

Good way to start.

"Many of these despondent and useless men have been guided into places where they fit." He's stopped using his brain-tools and it's not even chapter 8, which is where he talks about not letting your brain-tools get rusty.

(( Just a warning, there’s a short excerpt from the book that has some very literally, direct, and violent homophobia in there. ))

"teachers forced much useful and also useless stuff into unwilling brain cells" - I'm not entirely sure a man who blatantly ripped off one of de Sade's shortest works should be speaking poorly of teachers.

"How frequently have I heard the remark, after explaining to a young man who came to me a complete failure: “Why didn’t my father see all this?”" - You know, at this point, I'm almost certain that the only patients he'd ever seen were ones he made up or, more likely, ripped off from other case files and just changed the names.

"THE OUTSIDE LUNGS――THE SKIN" ...no.

He seems to think the skin does the same thing as the liver? What in the hell kind of medical school did this man attend?

"If a healthy boy should have his body――up to his neck――wrapped in tin foil, or any similar substance which would completely close the pores of the skin, he would soon have headache. This would become very severe, followed by loss of consciousness and finally convulsions――fits followed by death. Now this would occur even if he were in the open air. You can see by this fact that the lungs cannot alone cast off the poisons in the body" - First, weirdly specific scenario. Second, what he's describing is heat stroke not poisoning.

If people were listening to ridiculousness like this and taking it as valid health advice, no wonder so many died before they hit 30. I just went through an entire chapter of this idiot explaining how the skin is the body's main detox organ with only passing mention to things like, you know, your liver and kidneys, and that everything is caused by your dumb ass poisoning yourself by not bathing three times a day, constantly drinking water, then "exercising violently".

"Now it may sound funny to you, but the truth is, that if the boys in the past had really known as much as the chipmunks, we should have very few asylums for the insane or hospitals for the horrible diseases." - At this point I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually reading this or if I'm hallucinating it.

"About fourteen years of age you may feel a gradual soreness in the nipples. This will increase and sometimes be a little annoying. Now don’t become frightened and try to recall some blow you have received there." - This feels like a very, very specific panic that I'm pretty sure only happened to the author.

"Of course the HABIT of self-abuse means ruin to both brain and body. It is degrading to your true self, causes a loss of self-respect and makes a coward of every boy and man." - I get the feeling, by this point, that everything this person writes is just projecting.

"[...] bubbling spring of manly life." No.

"So never sleep with a man, except your father." - How is that less weird?

And we go from, go ahead and sleep with your dad to, "If you should be so situated that you find yourself in bed with a man, keep awake with your eyes on something you can hit him with. At the slightest word or act out of the way, HIT him; hit him so hard that he will carry the scar for life."

Just sleep on the floor if you're that damn paranoid.

"Keep your goat by and in you always." ...what? There are no circumstances whatsoever that would result in me wanting any part of a goat in me.

"CHAPTER VIII ENVIRONMENTS AND DISEASES WHICH RUST BRAIN-TOOLS" - I'm definitely stealing brain-tools. Based on everything else, I'm pretty sure mine are considered rusty somehow.

I don't think I'd take advice about brain-tools from someone who spent entire paragraphs talking about how he thinks people who live in far Northern climates hibernate.

What else have we got here? Dance hall women will ruin your life, you might be a man but you'll be a MAN in big letters if you go into the navy somehow, the navy should be bigger so it can consume more lower case men--I guess that makes sense as this was written in 1911.

"Don’t think that you know more than your mother about what is best for you. You don’t." - Wow, okay.

"I saw the girl, or rather woman, when she was twenty-four years of age, and recognized her by the peculiar conformation of her face. It was the face of a girl giggler. Her facial muscles had become so developed by her uncontrolled girlish habit that nothing could be done for her. " - What on earth is the "face of a giggler"?

"Don’t kiss anyone but your mother and father." - ???

"Don’t use arsenic in any form for your complexion or to give your face a plump appearance. Some of you will tell me of a girl you know who has a nice plump face from the use of arsenic wafers." - Maybe don't eat rat poison. Eating rat poison seems like a bad idea just in general.

Apart from don't giggle, don't kiss anyone, and don't take arsenic what is wrong with you? The entire book aimed at women seems to be a lot of, "For the love of everything don't touch ANYTHING without wearing gloves and also maybe burn your gloves every night and just use new ones the next day, the world is made of filth and full of diseased people. Try to stay outside in the sun without touching anything instead."

Interesting to read in the context of not having vaccinations available for all of the diseases mentioned; I don't know why it bothers me to see tuberculosis written as consumption though but I DO know why it bothers me that this idiot keeps saying sunlight will cure all of those diseases.

It really won't, you'll just die in a brightly lit room instead of a dark one.

"Don’t try to keep awake either by mental effort or that injurious resort of drinking coffee." - Well, I've been failing at that since I was about 15.

"Sleep always alone. Sleeping with another person is unsanitary." - ...uh huh.

"The hair should be washed frequently in water with a little powdered borax, but remember you wash the hair only to clean the scalp, nothing should be applied to the hair directly."  - Borax is corrosive, and how in the hell do you clean your scalp without also getting something on your hair, you can't just remove your hair and put it back later.

"Cold baths will keep your flesh firm and hard; will take off fat if you are too fat, and put on flesh if you are too lean." - Cold baths just sound unpleasant. There was also this whole section where he talked about how women specifically sweat fat out through their hands. I don’t have much for formal medical training but I’m confident that that’s not a thing that happens.

Speaking of, I particularly like that, in the book aimed at women, he's very adamant about daily bathing and in the book aimed at men it's more, "Eh, once per week is probably fine."

"EAT PICKLES AND CANDY IF YOU CRAVE THEM." - Unnecessarily aggressive sounding there, "Doctor". All I can picture is this quack screaming that in someone's face.

I guess it's kind of good to know that I have more extensive and accurate medical knowledge than someone who somehow got through school and earned the title of Doctor.

Oh, and I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

Kind of want to read that one next.

#antiques #old books #bad advice #homophobia cw #it's kind of amazing anyone survived at all #so my assumption is nobody listened to weirdos like this #sinday

[doctorsorders-deathboy]

Of All the Nights

lmfao i guess i’m back from the dead bitches. (this wip has existed for so long. i could not tell you why i decided to finally finish it tonight but AAA im so excited to be posting a fic again omg) amusingly, my last fic also involved late night baking. i hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1941

Read on ao3

It was 3:07am on the third of January and Nico di Angelo was dressed in nothing but a too-small fuchsia bathrobe, soaking wet, and about ready to commit bloody murder.

It was very possible, he thought, that the bathrobe contributed to his fury.

This was the kind of disaster that he’d recount to Jason later, with countless creative swears thrown in, though as he stood shivering and fuming outside a stranger’s apartment, it occurred to him that this might be one of those stories that would get more laughs from Jason than shared anger. Asshole.

Speaking of assholes, the door finally opened, revealing a very flustered looking blond man around Nico’s age. For a moment, Nico almost backed off on his prepared rant upon seeing how miserable the blond looked, but when another draft of winter air hit Nico’s still dripping legs, his scowl only deepened.

“What the hell were you doing baking at fucking three in the morning?”

The blond blinked once, twice, three times. He opened his mouth, closed it, and Nico was about ready to break his damn nose when he finally said, “Sorry… Do I know you?”

Nico had never had height to his advantage but hell if he didn’t know how to make himself intimidating. The blond shrunk back as Nico reared himself up to hiss, “Luckily, I was able to make it through 21 years of my life without meeting you before you had to go and nearly set the damn building on fire because of your insomniac cooking. Do you have any idea what kind of night you’ve caused for me? Did it ever occur to you that maybe you should save your incompetence for the waking hours when most people will be out at work anyways? Honestly, what kind of bullshit did you pull to make the fucking fire alarms go off? Did you pull this shit on purpose? Is this some kind of a joke to you?”

The man took much too long to answer again and Nico was collecting every bit of self control he had to keep himself from wringing this jackass’s neck when the response finally came. “Why are you wet?”

Nico must have reared up spectacularly that time because the man quickly amended, “I mean―! I’m sorry, that’s not the point here, um…” He peeked out of his apartment and looked around the deserted hallway. “If you want to yell at me, can you do it in here? I don’t want to wake anyone else up.”

“Like hell, you care,” Nico grumbled but willingly stepped into the man’s apartment. In hindsight, this really wasn’t Nico’s wisest move considering this guy was a stranger and Nico was nearly naked, but the blond seemed about as threatening as a frightened mouse. A tall, blue-eyed, frightened mouse who somehow had a tan in the dead of winter.

“Sorry, who are you again?” the blond asked, closing the door behind a fuming Nico.

“Your pissed off neighbor from two floors up,” Nico snapped. Unfortunately, the blond visibly cringed, looking like a kicked puppy, so Nico muttered, “Nico. Di Angelo,” as a reconcilement.

“Will Solace,” the blond introduced himself in return. He held his hand out to shake but quickly drew it back when it was clear that Nico’s arms were not moving from where they were crossed against his chest.

They stood in uncomfortable silence until Nico repeated, “How the hell did you set off the fucking alarm?” in as dangerous a voice as he could manage.

“I, well…”

Nico shot another fierce glare and Will didn’t waste anymore time in getting to the point.

“I was making pizzelles for my sister’s birthday and the iron must’ve broken because it was making a lot of smoke. It set off the fire alarm which went off throughout the whole building and… yeah. It was a mess. I’m really sorry. I feel awful.”

Nico didn’t doubt Will’s sincerity. The poor man was hunched in on himself with bags under his hands and his hands firmly stuck in his pockets. That didn’t make his story any less ridiculous, though.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said without a hint of remorse, “I think I missed something. Why the hell were you baking at three in the fucking morning?”

Will frowned at him. “You curse a lot,” he muttered.

“Why the fuck were you―”

“I was working until 1am!” Will exclaimed, which was the first indignant comment he’d made. “And I have classes at ten in the morning, but I promised to meet my friend for coffee at eight so I figured I’d just power through and bake when I got home but―” His voice broke off.

Nico’s cheeks tinted with embarrassment upon seeing Will’s face crumple a bit. God, please don’t cry. Nico hadn’t ever been very good at comforting crying people.

“Sorry,” Will said, his voice hoarse. “I should probably… I’m just going to clean up and go to bed. No more smoke. I promise.” He attempted a laugh to lighten the mood but it came out strangled and pitiful.

Nico was about ready to leave Will to mope when he spotted a picture hanging on the wall across the room. Will stood in the center, looking much happier than he did standing in front of Nico. The Will in the picture had a smile that made you want to smile back and had each arm thrown around a friend, pulling them close. He looked jubilant; the kind of person who you felt certain you could approach without fear. It was a painful contrast to the melancholy man Nico had met.

It felt very wrong to Nico that someone so happy could look so broken.

“What about your sister’s pizzelles?” Nico asked quietly.

Will shrugged. “I’ll have to buy her something on my way over tomorrow. Hopefully she won’t mind. I just feel bad, I promised I’d bake for her. Those pizzelles are her favorite.”

Nico considered this for a moment before internally rolling his eyes at himself. “Then we’d better make some pizzelles, shouldn’t we?”

~*~

“You still never explained to me why you showed up at my apartment soaked and nearly naked,” Will said conversationally, as he stood washing the dishes while Nico carefully arranged pizzelles in a tin.

Nico cleared his throat. “That’s a conversation starter I haven’t heard before.”

“Seriously,” Will said, grinning. “Were you swimming?”

“Why would I be swimming in the dead of night?”

Will shrugged. “I dunno, that’s why I was asking.”

“I wasn’t swimming.” Nico put the lid on the tin and turned around, pulling his fuchsia bathrobe tighter around himself.

Will turned towards him, too, eyebrows still raised.

Nico exhaled very slowly before admitting, “I was taking a shower.”

Will blinked. “At… three in the morning?” When Nico’s expression darkened, he added quickly, “Not that I’m judging! Obviously. I’ve taken many middle-of-the-night showers. I just… So, are you a med student, too, or what?”

Nico scuffed his shoe across the floor and grumbled, “No.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“So…”

“I had a dream,” Nico blurted, probably due to a combination of his lack of sleep and the way Will’s eyes had this kind, dreamy quality to them that made you feel like you could tell him anything.

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. “You showered because you had a dream?” His eyebrows shot upward. “Oh.”

“Not like that!” Nico said quickly, heat rushing to his face. “No, oh my god, no, that’s not…” And then he was laughing harder than he had in a long time and Will was laughing with him and he hardly felt embarrassed anymore. “No, it was a nightmare, not…” Nico tried to catch his breath. “Not that.”

Will tsked. “That’s a shame.”

“Yes, very disappointing.”

“So the shower was, what, to calm you down?”

Nico shifted, his mind flashing back to the dark, blurred images of a few hours ago. Bianca’s smile melting off her face, his mother screaming for him, a packed, dark room where people were crying and disappearing one by one, and he was next, he was next―

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Basically.”

When he’d woken up, he’d had to spend what felt like eternity reminding himself how to breathe again. He’d been having more nightmares recently, ones so bad that he almost considered Jason’s advice to start seeing a therapist. I mean, shit, he knew college wasn’t doing much for him in the mental health department but things hadn’t been this bad since he was thirteen.

He tried different things each night to get himself back to sleep―whatever it took. One night he didn’t manage to properly get back to sleep afterwards; he just lay in his bed with the lights on and music playing, counting the beats of his heart as he dozed on and off. That night, after waking up, he couldn’t stand his own skin, couldn’t stand being trapped in his body any longer, couldn’t stand the way he could still feel cold, dead hands from the dream clutching him―

So he’d gotten in the fucking shower and made the water as hot as he could stand and then the goddamn fire alarm went off. Jesus Christ, of all the fucking nights.

“Must have been a pretty bad dream,” Will murmured.

Nico shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… Yeah. I was… Sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. I was still kind of shaken up, I guess. I probably wouldn’t have marched to your apartment for a stupid mistake on a normal night.”

Will grinned. “Probably?”

“Maybe.”

Will laughed. “Oh, here!” He handed a small tin to Nico. “You helped make em, you should get some for yourself.”

Nico opened it to see that it was crammed full of pizzelles. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course. I love the bathrobe, by the way―I never said.”

“Oh god.” Nico groaned. “It’s not mine.”

“Your girlfriend’s?”

And then Nico was laughing again. Christ, that was twice in one night. Something must be wrong with him. “Yeah, no. It’s my sister’s.”

“Ah. Well, for the record, my next guess was that it was your boyfriend’s. I don’t mean to assume anything.”

Nico sucked his teeth. “I don’t have one of those, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yes, very disappointing.”

Will smiled softly to himself and Nico noticed that he had a dimple on one side of his face. God. Nico really wished he smiled more.

“Well, thanks so much for the baking help. You really didn’t have to,” Will said as they walked towards the door.

Nico waved him off. “I’m the one who came to your apartment in an angry rage. I needed to make it up to you somehow.”

“Do you frequently get in angry rages?”

“Yes, but mostly just for the aesthetic. Usually I’m too tired to be properly angry.”

Will laughed.

“I’ll return the tin to you, by the way,” Nico added.

“Will you be showing up at my apartment nearly naked again?”

Nico flushed and laughed nervously. “No, I promise I will be fully clothed.”

Will hummed disappointedly. “Well, I suppose I can’t have everything,” he murmured. He smiled then, full and warm, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and yes, Nico definitely wanted to see that smile more. “Goodnight, Nico,” he said cheerfully.

The door shut before Nico could figure out a way to respond. He stood there staring at it for a solid thirty seconds before turning and heading back to his apartment. When he got back, he decided, he’d put the pizzelles in a different container. He wanted to return the tin to Will Solace as soon as he could get away with.

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #fanfiction #fanfic #pjo #hoo #toa #fluff #request #anon #i cant believe im actually posting a fic in 2018 omg